


Undeniable Plausibility

by Cephalopodsalad17



Series: make me think there’s some truth in it [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Feels, Compromise, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Dehumanization, Everyone has an agenda, F/M, Gaslighting, HYDRA Trash Party, Hand Feeding, M/M, Manipulation, Misunderstandings, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not a lot of comfort, Objectification, POV Steve Rogers, Sex Pollen, Spies & Secret Agents, Steve Rogers Is Not Okay, Steve has to participate in trash parties to get recruited by HYDRA, Stubborn Steve Rogers, Torture, Trust Issues, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 113
Words: 132,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephalopodsalad17/pseuds/Cephalopodsalad17
Summary: When Steve volunteered to infiltrate HYDRA, he was prepared to say "Hail Hydra" and do some terrible things to earn trust. He wasn't prepared to be expected to go along with the sexual abuse of a subordinate with Bucky's face.In the words of one reader:The asset "knows" it's not Bucky but wants to be, especially if it'll please Steve, and Steve "knows" it's not Bucky but is so starved for his old pal that it's starting not to matter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/2271.html?thread=5327839#cmt5327839
> 
> Original prompt: Steve is one of the Asset's handlers. 
> 
> https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1634.html?thread=2964834#cmt2964834
> 
> Posting as I edit. I usually post parts to the trashmeme on Dreamwidth before I post them here.

It took Steve too long to realize what was about to happen.

They’d all come off the mission still buzzing with adrenaline and crowded into the locker room showers to get clean before debrief. Generally, Steve made sure to duck out of the showers and escape the locker rooms as soon as he could to start writing up his reports.

Steve had never really grown comfortable with the way people looked at him now and he wasn’t about to jerk off while anyone watched. He’d take the _physical_ discomfort any day of the week. He had averted his eyes plenty of times before when one of his teammates was a little worked up and decided to take themselves in hand. A few times, he’d turned down the offer of a helping hand himself, usually from a smirking Rumlow who could manage to both sneer and shamelessly suggest a handjob. Steve wasn't sure if he was genuinely interested, wanted to discomfort him and make him blush, or only viewed him as a challenge.

But there was something different in the air this time. Steve was not the focus of attention for once. It should have been a relief, but the way the asset just _dropped_ at the lightest touch of Rumlow’s hand on that metal shoulder disturbed him.

He’d been working to gain STRIKE’s trust since Fury read him in on his discoveries of the HYDRA infiltration. It hadn’t been hard to establish Steve’s cover story. All he had to do was keep doing what he was already doing. STRIKE reported directly to Secretary Pierce at least as often as they did Fury. Both of their superiors had Alpha-level clearance, but at SHIELD/HYDRA it was often best that the right hand really _not_ know what the left was doing. So, with the apparent approval of the Director of SHIELD and the Secretary of Defence, Steve had every excuse to go along with most every STRIKE mission he could. He’d made a point of sharing some of the things he’d done in the war - the sort of things that kept him up nights but a man like Rumlow wouldn’t blink at - and talked up his own reckless choices from all the way back in Brooklyn. He threw himself into missions like a man who didn’t know what else he was still living for. If he was honest with himself, it wasn’t much of a performance. Just as well Steve needed less sleep than the average anyway.

But then there’d been a mission with the team divided and by the time he was back on a quinjet with his half of their unit, he’d realized there was no way Rumlow’s team could have cleared the second base by themselves in the same amount of time.

Not without some kind of assistance.

Upon arrival at the Triskelion, the two quinjets were directed to separate hangers. Steve got the distinct impression that he was being kept away. Then, during the debriefing, Rumlow hesitated at several points while making his report.

Steve couldn’t tell if it was an act or not.

If it was, it was certainly effective at making him want to ask even more. “Look Rumlow,” he said, “I’m not an idiot. If it’s something I’m not cleared for, just say so. I can handle a few more secrets.” He glanced at Secretary Pierce at the end of the table. “Sorry, sir.”

Rumlow looked to Pierce as well. “Sir?”

The Secretary studied Steve for a long moment before making a _go ahead_ motion with a sweep of an open hand. “I trust your discretion, Captain. Commander, you may refer to the asset in your report without identifying it.”

He shared a meaningful look with Rumlow who grinned like a kid who had a new toy he wanted to share but wasn’t allowed to take out of his bag yet. “Yes, sir,” he said. “So the asset and I proceeded to the main labs while…”

As Rumlow told the story, Steve slowly realized the asset he described must have had abilities similar to Steve himself. Another super soldier?

If only he’d known.

So now, half a dozen missions later, they were all together post-mission for the first time. Although the still-unnamed asset’s mask remained, the rest of his teammates were naked, high on the successful op, and Steve couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

The showers were still running. A strange detail to fix on, maybe, but there was something about how extraordinarily ordinary and automatic this all seemed. Motion sensors told the showers when to turn on or off and right now they registered Steve, Rumlow, and the asset in range of the spray.

No one spoke. The thudding splash of the masked man’s (because it had to be a man, with that body, didn’t it?) bare knees on the wet concrete seemed to be a signal. The rest of the team shifted back toward the walls, like a ring of spectators at a street performance. Interested, but not like what they were seeing was uncommon.

Rumlow’s hand had followed the asset down to grasp a handful of long dark hair. He was reaching for the goggles when he appeared to realize Steve was still here.

“You joining us, Cap?” His smile set Steve’s teeth on edge. “Pierce said we could read you in if you did.”


	2. Chapter 2

The “asset” was still very much an unknown to Steve. Although they’d shared transport a couple times now, they’d never actually worked together or really even directly interacted. So far, he knew the asset’s enhancements couldn’t be too far off from his own because he’d heard and read the censored mission reports from their joint missions. He knew the asset was the type to sit quietly and get the job done, which was an attitude Steve could respect, even though the silence on those eleven hour flights to and from Yemen a few weeks ago had been kind of awkward. It had certainly given him time to get over any fascination with the prosthetic. After Ironman, he wasn’t quite as easy to impress with robotics anymore.

He’d noticed (of _course_ he’d noticed!) the metal arm and the long dark hair and wondered what might be under all that kevlar and armor, but he’d known the most likely answer would be skin and muscle with plenty of old scars and none of that was especially interesting. Embarrassing or not, the fact was that Steve wasn’t exactly hard up. He didn’t lack for offers, he just wasn’t looking. He couldn’t let go of the past yet. Even considering taking someone out still felt like cheating.

He certainly wasn’t looking at the asset like that now. Honestly, he was more curious to hear the guy’s voice. At this rate, maybe it was a risk to assume the mysterious super soldier had one, but the silent compliance was just a little on the side of creepy.

Actually, it was significantly more than a little creepy, especially now. Usually, when someone was offering assistance in the shower, of any variety, they offered it themselves. He wasn’t quite sure what to think about the way Rumlow had positioned himself as responsible for the asset’s behavior.

No, he had a good inkling. He just didn’t want to believe it. Romanoff had warned him that they would try to compromise him. He’d known they’d insist on making him complicit before they trusted him with anything important. So far, all he really had was a new understanding of the degree of Secretary Pierce’s direct influence.

But it was quite a jump from running dodgy missions under questionable authority to accepting… this.

“I… uh… _what_?” Steve spluttered. He jerked his gaze from the back of the asset’s head to Rumlow's face. He refused to look anywhere else.

What he found there was knowing and anticipatory. “Oh, come _on_ , Rogers,” said Rumlow. He was remarkably calm for a naked homophobe with his hands on one naked guy while looking another up and down. It figured he'd be every bit as aggressive about dubiously consensual sexual favors from silent subordinates as he was about not liking men. Steve should have seen this coming when Rumlow had kept offering to give Steve a hand. This was a power play, nothing to do with sex at all. “Thought you weren't an idiot? You _know_ what. Live a little. Try actin’ like you’re not still a block of ice for once.”

“This is… this is really inappropriate,” Steve stammered, face heating. He wanted to grab a towel and hide himself, but he was enough of an outsider without letting himself knee-jerk refuse to participate in team-bonding. Even _HYDRA-style_ team-bonding. At least he could try not to talk over the poor guy. He’d heard some of his teammates address the asset as _soldier_ before.

“Look, uh, no offense, soldier, but I don't even know your name.” No reaction. So much for that. He looked back at Rumlow. “I don’t even know his _codename_.”

There were a few laughs from the spectators.

Rumlow shrugged like it was no skin off _his_ back either way. “Suit yourself. Run away like you always do.”

Blatant manipulation. He’d have recognized what Rumlow was doing even without what Romanoff had termed Infiltration 101. He knew that was one of his hot buttons. It still made him angry.

“Shoulda known you weren't really interested in being part of the team.” Rumlow kept the goggles loosely in one hand and used the other to pull the asset toward himself by a handful of dripping hair. The masked face nuzzled into Rumlow’s thigh and Steve jerked his eyes away again. With a falsely regretful sigh, Rumlow added, “Your loss, Cap. Think our soldier here was looking forward to you joining the party.”

Although he supposed those shoulders _could_ be slumping in dejection, Steve really doubted it. “That so?” He’d never heard the asset speak, much less agree to perform any sex acts. He wracked his brain for some way to put a stop to things without destroying all his progress with the team.

“Sure.”

Steve swept his eyes around the room, careful to keep his eyes up. “Some party. You can’t be serious.” He couldn’t think of a good reason to hide his disgust.

“Absolutely,” smirked Rumlow. When Steve just kept staring at him, his eyebrows climbed. “Outside of missions, this is what the asset lives for.”

“I think I’d like to hear that from him.”

“It,” Rollins corrected. “The asset’s an it.”

Momentarily derailed by the interjection, Steve blinked around the room, frowning. “I’m sorry?”

Someone snorted. “No one tell you it's not polite to assume pronouns these days?

Steve blinked at them. This was ridiculous. HYDRA agents were scolding him for being socially inappropriate? While they were (apart from the asset, whose dark head remained an uncomfortably short distance from Rumlow’s genitals) all standing around naked? “Excuse me?”

Rumlow shook his head like Steve had disappointed him. “We let the misgendering go until now because you hadn’t been properly introduced to it. But the asset isn’t a person.”

Something snapped. Probably Steve’s self-control. He looked around the room. “You’re fucking with me.”

Headshakes all around.

“Nah, Cap, but I bet our soldier here would _love_ to.” The STRIKE Commander nudged the asset with his knee, prompting it to swing its head in Steve’s direction. As it turned, the water that had been running down its back washed its hair over its masked face and obscured its eyes completely. It looked like something out of a foreign horror movie he'd seen with Clint and Natasha (Barton and Romanoff, he reminded himself) before he'd started spending all his time with STRIKE. “Right, asset?”

“You’re all out of your goddamn minds,” Steve hissed before _it_ or anyone else could react and stormed out of the showers.


	3. Chapter 3

Almost immediately Steve regretted letting them see how bothered he was. Had he blown it? Had he left them feeling rejected or just shown them how weak he was by their standards?

Also, looking back on the last few minutes, he thought he'd probably come off as a judgemental asshole and okay, yeah, fair enough, but he didn't think he'd sent the right message. He'd meant to condemn the dehumanization and sexual bullying. Unfortunately, he suspected he'd just sounded like the uptight prudish fossil too many of his coworkers already viewed him as.

Which at least was _consistent_ , but…

God, he wanted his clothes. And maybe another shower. Somewhere else. Somewhere far far away from here. With as many locked doors as possible.

Steve scrubbed a towel over his body, barely resisted simply ripping the door from the locker he'd used for his street clothes and nearly tore his shirt as he pulled on his clothes in record time.

He still felt vulnerable and unclean. Not that he had any right. He’d left the poor asset alone with the rest of the team. What the hell was he supposed to do about _that_ now? They'd flat-out told him they didn't see it as a person. There was no way anything they did with it under those circumstances could be consensual.

No, he'd heard Rumlow’s indirect order loud and clear. He wasn't misinterpreting _anything_. If he'd let the asset touch him, he'd have been participating in command rape.

Something his teammates apparently didn't see as a problem.

He wished they'd just asked him to say “Hail HYDRA.” He'd been prepared for that as much as he could ever be. He'd _practiced_ , feeling sick the whole time.

Resolved to go directly to Pierce, or maybe Fury, infiltration attempts be damned, he left the locker room and started down the corridor.

“Hey, hey! Cap, stop!”

He spun back to see Rumlow jogging toward him, damp and barely half-dressed.

“What the hell, Rumlow!”

“Look, it’s not what you think. I guess we got a bit excited about show and tell and forgot the _tell_ part. You really think we’d treat a teammember like that thing?”

“I don’t know _what_ to think anymore,” Steve snapped. He wanted to cross his arms across his chest, but that was defensive posture and he was _angry_. He kept his hands fisted at his sides.

“Yeah, sorry, I get that,” Rumlow said, swiping water out of his eyes. His hair was dripping and his pants were damp and twisted. “Let me grab a towel and I’ll explain.”

Maybe storming out hadn’t done irreparable damage after all. “I’m listening,” he offered warily.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve followed Rumlow back through the door. By the looks of things he’d just thrown on his pants right out of the shower.

“Mind if I change first?” Rumlow grimaced down at the trail of wet footprints.

“Fine,” Steve bit out. “I was gonna swing by a snack machine anyway. I’ll wait but this better be some explanation, Rumlow.” He supposed he should try to salvage this even though his stomach was churning in a way that wasn't all hunger.

At his capitulation, Rumlow looked relieved enough that Steve suddenly wondered what consequences _he’d_ face if Steve walked.

There was a vending machine right outside. Noise from the showers was usually audible in here. He strained his ears but couldn’t hear anything, not even the water anymore. Had they cancelled the party or just moved somewhere more private? His chest felt tight.

The elevator at the end of the hallway opened as Steve stepped into the hall again. He made his purchases. A group of female agents moved past him and entered a doorway farther on. Steve ate a package of chocolate cookies. He barely tasted them.

Rumlow came out with his cell phone in hand.

“The Secretary wants to see us,” he informed Steve whose face must have been revealing because he added, “He just wants to make sure you don’t run off half-cocked. There were good reasons not to read you in until you were already familiar.”

Yeah, Steve bet there were.

The elevator took them down instead of up and Steve found himself deep in part of the basement levels he’d never been in before. To be fair, he hadn’t been in much of the building total.

The room they stopped at looked like a regular briefing room no different from the ones elsewhere in the building. It did not, however, boast a single SHIELD emblem. In this otherwise over-branded building, that seemed significant.

_Hello, HYDRA._

A few minutes of stressful silence later, Steve was working through his third string cheese when Rumlow spoke.

“Guess I might as well start with that explanation. You know about the Black Widow program?”

“Yeah,” Steve acknowledged cautiously. “Soviet program Romanoff came out of.”

“They had another program. The Winter Soldier program. Bit of a flop. They only produced half a dozen assets and most of them were unstable. Our friend here was the most reliable of them. Their control was mostly hit or miss fry-’em-all-and-let-God-sort-it-out. Or whoever, I guess, since we’re talking godless commies.”

Even more alarmed, Steve repeated, “ _Fry them?_ ” but Rumlow didn’t stop to explain.

“Anyway, we got them when the Soviet Union broke up. They were all a bunch of different physical types, nationalities, they even made one asset look like a girl, but this one was always special.” He raised his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth and Steve could tell he was waiting for the question.

“How do you mean?”

There was humor in Rumlow's expression. It wasn't a nice kind of humor.

“Well,” he said, drawing out the word, "they were all engineered to look a certain way, physically, you know? But they went a step further with this one and made it look like a real person. Taught it how to act, how to smile and cry and fake a bunch of human shit. I mean, supersoldier or not, any advantage is still good, right?"

And that wasn’t disturbing at all, was it? Steve nodded guardedly. Even assuming Rumlow wasn’t lying through his teeth, he still didn’t think any of that justified calling it a _thing_ , though Steve would err on the side of keeping his cover for now.


	5. Chapter 5

_zzzzzzt zzzzzzt zzzzzzt_

Both of them jumped a little at the sound of Rumlow’s phone vibrating against the table.

A quick glance at the screen and Rumlow silenced it. “Pierce is on his way down. Shoulda put my headset back on.” He looked back at Steve. “Where were we?”

“Advantages,” Steve said, perturbed by the reminder that the Secretary of Defense and Chairman of the World Security Council was not just HYDRA but absolutely _had_ to be complicit in whatever they were doing with the asset.

“Right. So they didn’t just make the asset able to look and act like a real boy, they made it look like someone specific. Gave it a face and a sob story that might make the leadership of SHIELD hesitate. Carter was Director back then.”

 _Peggy. They made it to take out Peggy._ She’d lost her brother Michael in the war. Steve didn’t know the circumstances but plenty of men had been declared dead without a body.

"What face?" he heard himself ask. His voice sounded grim in his own ears.

Rumlow grinned. "Well, it couldn't be yours, Cap. There'd been impostors before. But someone else close had a workable backstory and the asset already had the right coloring.”

Had Michael had dark hair? Steve thought so.

The door opened. Steve and Rumlow stood quickly as the asset preceded Pierce into the room, stepping aside to let him pass. The asset’s head was bowed, hair falling across the bridge of the masked nose.

“Gentlemen,” Pierce said, waving to the asset to close the door. “Let’s not stand on ceremony.” The asset took up a position next to the door. “How much have you told him, Commander?”

“Just the program and the asset’s original purpose, sir. I was just getting to the dramatic reveal.”

“Are you sure you're not getting ahead of yourself again? I’d rather not have a repeat of the ‘92 incident.” At Rumlow’s hesitation, Pierce asked, “How much did you tell him about the other assets?

“Just that they were unstable.”

Pointedly, Steve said, "I haven't heard anything to explain or justify sexual use of the asset.” He was trying not to pay too much obvious attention to the quiet sentry at the door. Regular SHIELD blacks looked odd with the mask and hair. "It's illegal to treat _animals_ like that. I think it's understandable that I find this difficult to make sense of."

Leaning forward, Pierce put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his steepled hands. "That is a tough one," he admitted. "But it basically comes down to the nature of the assets and need to maintain control. The unstable assets decided they were superior to their human handlers. They wouldn't comply. They attacked their handlers.” He sat back and slowly shook his head. “The Soviets made a mistake in keeping them together. They wanted a team and they got a pack of vicious animals. By the time they came into our possession, they were far too high risk to attempt to rehabilitate and deploy.”

Gesturing to the asset with his head, Steve repeated what Rumlow had intimated. “But this one is different?”

“This one," Pierce said, "was raised and conditioned separately. It’s largely well-behaved. It complies, it rarely acts out unprovoked. And yet, it’s largely well-behaved _only_ because it receives regular reminders of its place in the hierarchy and the reason for its continued existence. If its handlers don't prove their dominance regularly, it becomes just as erratic and unstable as the others. It lacks the cognitive ability to understand the larger consequences of its actions. Punishments and rewards must be immediate and thorough. It gets confused. It forgets. Its brain is unreliable. It must be taught through the use of its body. It was uncomfortable for everyone initially, but the STRIKE team learned how to handle it and they do an excellent job of reinforcing its conditioning.”

Rumlow spoke up again. “It’s not _our_ fault the Winter Soldier program was fucked up. I’m a lot of things, but I ain’t a rapist. We tried giving it verbal praise and treats at first but people got killed when it got erratic. It was _relieved_ when we started fucking it the way it was used to. Stopped giving us that kicked puppy look everytime it finished a mission and we didn’t give it a reward it understood.”

“Sex is a reward for it?” Horrifying. Just… horrifying. It was one thing to say the asset had been made in a lab and been specifically intended to kill Peggy. It was another to insist that it had been designed to need sex from its handlers.

“Nah,” Rumlow said, chuckling, “letting it come is the reward. It’s not allowed to touch itself. It only gets pleasure if it submits to our use.”

“Think of it this way, Captain.” One of the more disturbing elements of this conversation was the way the Secretary Pierce acted like they were discussing putting in new carpet or helping with hurricane evacuation. Like it was all totally normal and unobjectionable. “The asset functions in two modes. One is the compliant _instrument_ of its handler’s will and the other is a compliant _object_ of its handler’s will. If it doesn't perform as expected in its secondary function, then it cannot be trusted to perform in its primary function. If it can’t used for its primary function, then it is not an asset, it's a liability like the others.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

By the door, the asset’s head dropped a fraction lower. Steve wondered how it felt about being discussed like this. It didn’t seem right. It _wasn’t_ right.

After a few moments of nothing but the hum of the air vents, Steve realized they were waiting for a response. “I see,” he said finally, in spite of the reality that he really didn’t understand how any of this _could_ be reality. “But I can’t say I’m comfortable knowing this is going on, sir.”

Pierce sighed. “Of course not. I never expected you to be, which is why I delayed giving you clearance for the Winter Soldier project.”

Why _had_ they taken the risk? Steve had almost gone straight to Fury about the asset. He still might. What could HYDRA (and he was horrified again to realize he hadn’t been trying to sort HYDRA from SHIELD for much of this conversation) possibly gain from letting him know about the Winter Soldier program? Why had Rumlow been so pushy about getting him involved? What was the punchline?

“May I ask why you did, sir?”

“You didn't finish telling him about the asset’s appearance,” Pierce instead addressed Rumlow, who tapped his fingers against the table and smirked, but there was a definite edge of nervousness.

“No, sir. Is it time?”

“In a moment.” He turned back to Steve. “It's important that you understand what the asset _is_. Because it is not who it looks like and it will never be your friend.”

Steve frowned. “I don't understand.”

“I just want you prepared, Captain, Steve.”

He never wanted to hear his first name from Pierce again.

The asset shifted slightly. Steve and Rumlow both looked at it. Pierce ignored it.

“Rumlow told you it was designed to take out SHIELD's leadership. At the time, Stark, Howard Stark, was still involved with SHIELD and creating weapons for the DOD.” He paused, grave and sympathetic, waiting for Steve to catch up.

Tony and the file SHIELD had given him after he woke up both said Howard had died in a car crash with his wife Maria in 1991. Steve swallowed hard. A wave of anger came and receded, leaving an aching numbness in its wake. It took him a moment to find his voice. “It wasn't an accident.” The words came out absurdly calm, detached.

“I'm sorry, Captain.”

“Does… Tony said it was an accident.” As soon as he stopped feeling numb, he was he was going to be sick. After that, he was going to break things. Lots of things. Hopefully things that he wanted to break, but he was going to break things. Tony didn’t know? “And I suppose I can’t tell him?”

“I'm sorry, Captain.”

HYDRA. HYDRA had done this. The Soviets made for convenient scapegoats, but he had no doubt HYDRA had had its tentacles involved all along. How much more could HYDRA take? If he learned they were somehow responsible for Peggy’s illness he’d barely even be surprised at this point. Now he knew they’d even orphaned Tony Stark. Where would it stop?

Steve had to put an end to the organization once and for all. Whatever he had to do to root them out, he would. It might be the most important thing he ever did.

God, he hated these people. He couldn’t help feeling for the asset, but he _hated_ HYDRA.

“It was a test run for this asset.”

He’d felt it coming, but having his suspicion confirmed was a blow anyway.

If the asset felt Steve’s stare at all, it gave no sign.

“It completed the mission… flawlessly."

“I see…” Steve felt sick again. Maybe he’d never stopped feeling sick.

“There’s footage…” Pierce offered. His expression was pained, like he was actually bothered by what he was revealing.

Steve couldn't even come up with a response beyond shaking his head. No doubt the video existed. He just stared at the asset. Howard’s killer.

But… had Howard ever known Michael Carter? No, he hadn't. Steve was sure of it.

So the asset must look like someone else.

Deep breath. “Show me.”

Pierce nodded to Rumlow, who went to it, all trace of humor gone.

“Soldier.”

It turned to look at him, raising its head.

He put a hand on the asset’s cheek and pushed it around to face Steve.

Pale blue eyes were still ringed with traces of smudged black paint. They seemed to bore right into his soul.

He knew those eyes. Eyes _like_ those.

The impossibility of it shocked him back into his uncomfortable skin.

Gravity… went wrong for a moment. He hadn’t been injured on the mission. If he had, he’d have an excuse for the spinny swoopy feeling overtaking him. _Don’t_ _be_ _sick_ , he ordered himself. Steve knew what he was about to see even before Rumlow’s hands moved lower, to the mask.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve didn’t want to look, couldn’t bear it to be true, didn’t want to think about the implications, couldn't tear his eyes away.

“Bucky.”

And it was, impossibly, he was.

Flat blue eyes looked right at him. They were void of either recognition or embarrassment. There was a sense of cool assessment but they remained unreadable like glare on rain-slick slate.

Steve felt cold all through. Wind howled in his ears. The room was painfully silent.

Rumlow tossed the mask on the table where it clattered to a stop. “Did a great job, didn't they? Resemblance is uncanny, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve choked out. “Uncanny.”

“You were going to see it eventually.” Rumlow had been champing at the bit for a chance to show Steve the asset’s face, but now he sounded almost apologetic.

“So this is damage control.” _It’s not Bucky_ , he told himself and willed himself to believe it for at least as long as it took to get away from here.

“Cap?” Rumlow sounded worried.

“Why,” he whispered. “Why show me this?”

“Because you would have found out sooner or later and we didn’t want you jumping to conclusions.”

Oh, Steve was jumping to all _sorts_ of conclusions.

“It’s… not,” Steve said brokenly, “him.”

“No, it isn’t.” But there was relief in Rumlow’s voice. Too much relief?

_It’s not Bucky. Don’t think about it._

Steve stared at the asset, at Bucky’s face, except it couldn’t have Bucky’s face. _It’s not._ He’d seen Bucky die. _It’s not._

_Zola experimented on him. I only saw..._ He cut that thought off. _It’s not._ Couldn’t let himself give away what he really thought of any of this.

He didn’t know how long he stared at blue eyes, jawline, cut cheekbones, nose, chin… even the same damn lips. _It’s not_. Those features didn’t belong on a creature HYDRA called the asset who had killed Bucky and Steve’s friend. _It’s not_.

There was a faint trilling noise, as of a phone or a pager. Secretary Pierce sighed, got up, and brushed invisible lint from his sharp gray jacket.

“Time for me to get back upstairs,” he said. “If you have any further questions, Rumlow and the STRIKE team can answer them or you can make an appointment to come speak to me.” When Steve didn’t respond, he put an edge in his voice. “Got it, Captain?”

Steve nodded. “Understood.” He tried not to flinch when Pierce put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’ll get easier,” he promised. “Remember there’s no point taking revenge on the asset. It was just following orders. I doubt it even remembers. Like I said, its memory is unreliable.”

Steve nodded again, numb. He wanted to shake Pierce’s hand off, aware of the touch like a burn.

“Look to Commander Rumlow for guidance. He was quite a fan at one time. Of both of you. He’s been through this adjustment as well. ”

Rumlow looked mildly embarrassed.

“Don’t let the asset fool you,” Pierce warned, stepping away. Steve tried not to seem too relieved. “It was trained to mimic him and it’s a natural instinct of all living things to seek pleasure and avoid pain.”

“I… understand, sir.” The words were almost impossible, but Steve got them out. “Thank you. For preparing me. You’re right. I wouldn’t have taken this information well.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Jasherk for suggesting a better Russian translation.

Pierce smiled. Steve wanted to take a shower even more than he had before. “I’m glad you’re handling this so well, Captain. Perhaps, in time, we’ll see what else you can handle.”

It felt like a threat. Steve felt naked under his eyes. He shifted his own to the asset. The asset was watching the interaction with something a little cooler than patience or curiosity. _It’s not Bucky_ , he reminded himself.

“It does better with blonds. No surprise, really. The assets’ pack leader was blond. And, to be frank, it’s already primed for you. It was trained to immerse itself in Barnes’ identity well enough to withstand scrutiny and questioning for weeks or however long it took to get close to its targets.”

Steve felt sick. The asset couldn’t be Bucky but he had definite Bucky-like qualities. _It. It_ had.

“I’m getting old and it’s not always good for Rumlow,” Pierce admitted.

Rumlow just shrugged a little. “It’s a dream in the field. Post-op it can be a bit of a handful sometimes, but I can keep it compliant enough to work with STRIKE.”

The asset lowered its gaze to the concrete floor.

“And you think it would be good for me?”

“I think the asset would behave itself," said Pierce. "I also think it would be good for you to have something to take care of. It’s a lot more portable than a succulent. I realize you’re uncomfortable with its conditioning and maintenance requirements, but you’d have plenty of support.”

He couldn’t help the grimace. _It’s not Bucky._ “I’ll… think about it, sir. Thank you.”

The asset raised its head again, a flicker of something on that face as it looked in Steve’s general direction without meeting his eyes.

“You want me to take Rogers with me when I turn it over to tech?” Rumlow asked.

The asset's bearing went tight and its expression dulled.

 _It’s not Bucky._ Steve got the impression it didn’t like tech much, whoever or whatever that was.

Pierce studied Steve. He suspected he was showing too much on his face.

“No, not today,” he said and Steve had the definite sense he’d missed a knife to the gut. Another one.

_It’s not Bucky._

Another smile that caused Steve guts to knot. “I’m happy you’re with us, Captain,” said Pierce. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Once he was gone, Rumlow snapped his fingers at the asset.

It lifted its head immediately. There was no life in its Bucky-blue eyes.

“You gonna stay good for us today, asset?”

It nodded.

“Introduce yourself to Captain Rogers. Properly.”

Steve shot him a wary look when it dropped to its knees. “Rumlow, you know I’m not…”

He spread his hands. “I heard you the first time, Cap. No funny business. Just let it talk.”

The asset blinked guileless clear eyes up at him. “Я - Зимний Солдат. Я существую, чтобы служить моим командирам. Я могу изображать человека по имени James Barnes.”

He didn’t understand the Russian beyond _солдат_ , but he heard the name loud and clear and swallowed hard. His eyes burned. “I don’t know Russian.”

“I am Winter Soldier. I exist to serve my superiors. I can imitate James Barnes.” The words were soft, mostly toneless with just a hint of something to set it apart from a recorded message. He didn’t know what sort of voice he’d expected the asset to have, but it felt _off_. It tilted its head slightly. “Does it please you?”

“Get up, soldier,” he ordered roughly, unable to bear seeing it on its knees for a moment longer. He still felt sick.

It rose in a smooth motion with its eyes still fixed on his while he struggled to think of anything else to say.

“Tell him, asset,” said Rumlow. “In _English_. You know what to say.”

“I exist to serve at the discretion of my superiors. If the Secretary permits, you may command me. Use me as you wish. I have the appearance of a man, but many times the fortitude. I do not fail. Pain means little to me. I am designed to be used.”

Its eyes went briefly to Rumlow, who nodded. “Come on, you know you’ve been dying for a chance to try out your full programming.” To Steve, he explained, “Carter retired before it could try playing Barnes for someone who knew him.”

“If the Winter Soldier is not to your taste, I can be Bucky Barnes for you, Captain.” There was a spark of… something in the statement, though it wasn’t quite an offer and Steve fought the urge to recoil as it repeated, “Does it please you?”

He flinched when Rumlow clapped him on the back.

“Aw, look at that face, Cap. Give it some reassurance already.”

Steve’s jaw and tongue felt stiff and painful, but he forced himself to loosen them and say, “Yes. You please me. You did great on the mission today.” He knew that wasn’t what it had been asking. Rumlow raised his eyebrows at him, clearly expecting more and Steve fought back the tears he didn’t dare shed in front of them. “You… look just like him. Very convincing.”

At once, the asset’s face brightened into an expression Steve hadn’t seen since the last time he’d given Bucky his opinion on his efforts to prepare for an evening out.

 _It’s not Bucky_ , he told himself.

But it was hard to believe HYDRA could have taught the asset that expression.

 


	9. Chapter 9

“You _can't_ fail, Captain,” said Fury and Steve slumped back in his chair because that was exactly what he'd been afraid of hearing.

The asset weighed heavily on his mind. He’d never expected to see Bucky’s face again except in his own artwork and old photographs or film reels.

Once he got a little distance, it became harder and harder to use anything but masculine pronouns for the asset. Steve had convinced and unconvinced himself that it/he was Bucky about three times. He thought maybe it would be better if it _weren’t_ Bucky. Bucky was dead, but he was safe. The asset was about as far from safe with HYDRA as Steve could imagine. Steve had been a nervous wreck for the last thirty-seven hours, waiting for a legitimate reason to see the Director of SHIELD and there wasn’t even a solution.

He’d given his report.

Steve hadn’t had enough on Pierce’s secret asset to share with Fury before now. Fury was crazy when it came to compartmentalization. He’d insisted Steve keep most of what he learned to himself so no one else who knew of Steve’s efforts could give them away even by accident. Fury had frowned even more than usual at Steve’s explanation of the asset’s appearance. He’d said _Winter Soldier_ and Fury had summoned Natasha, Agent Romanoff, immediately, but that was all.

He’d been frustrated with Fury’s refusal to share information in the past, but it was somehow even worse to be the one with information and be unable to share it. And now that he had, he was being told it wasn’t enough to act on. Not without more information.

“You’ve gotten closer to the infiltrators than any agent I’ve ever tried to place with them. You remember what happened to the last guy?”

The last guy had died of supposedly mission-related injuries after barely getting Fury the troubling message of "We’re all hydra. Insight is coming". What had been meant by the second part, Steve didn’t know, and if Fury knew, he wasn’t talking. There certainly hadn’t been any more insight from the dead agent.

“So what do I do?” he asked heavily.

“Whatever you have to. And if this mystery asset is really a Winter Soldier, you do whatever you can to separate him from HYDRA. Take any excuse you're given to get him alone. See if they'll let you spar with him, command him in the field. And if he's really that suggestible and you have an opportunity?” He put both hands on his desk and leaned over it. “Convince him he's Barnes. Make him your ally. Give him what he thinks he needs.”

“You're saying I should rape him,” Steve said bluntly. “Treat him like they do.”

The words hung in the air, flat and bitter.

“From what you’ve said, _he_ wouldn’t see it that way. Would you object so strongly if he didn’t look like Barnes?” Fury asked.

Offended, Steve glowered at him. “Of course I would.”

“You know SHIELD has protocols for when an agent is unable to give consent in a situation requiring sexual contact as a life or death matter. If they were telling the truth, you’re already the asset’s preference. What would Barnes want you to do?” Fury shook his head. “I can’t order you to do it, but letting HYDRA think you’re willing to be corrupted is the only way they’ll let you any deeper. You volunteered and you’re all we’ve got. Either get with the program or get out before you blow it.”

Steve grimaced at both the meaning and the images conjured by the poor word choice. So maybe he hadn’t realized what he was setting himself up for. That didn’t mean he was wrong to refuse to go along with sexual abuse of a subordinate who could only say yes.

Natasha, who had been silent since Steve had said "Winter Soldier program", finally looked at him. “If you can’t bring yourself to participate, you should at least watch the next time they invite you. Pretend to be reluctantly interested. Play up the difference between Steve Rogers and Captain America. Captain America can’t act like he wants to, but-”

“No!” Steve exclaimed. “I can’t pretend to be interested in raping him. It’s wrong. How can you possibly think that will help me win him over?”

Her expression twisted and her mouth flattened. “It won’t. But it will help you subvert his loyalty to HYDRA if you can offer the potential to give him what he thinks he needs without the pain he’s used to from them. If you can’t convince them to make you his handler, use your status as another supersoldier. Make yourself his new... pack leader.”

Bile rose in his throat. He forced it back down and shook his head. “But…”

She leaned forward. “It doesn’t _matter_ , Steve. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter if the asset is the real Barnes or just plays him on TV. From the sound of it, he wants to try to be Bucky for you. All you have to do is give him a way to do it. If he’s really your friend, he’ll understand once you get him away from them and if he was cooked up by HYDRA, he’ll be happier away from them anyway. Because you’re right. It doesn’t matter who he is. It doesn’t matter _what_ he is. HYDRA’s treatment isn't justified. Whatever else he is, the Winter Soldier is a victim of HYDRA. But _think_ Steve. You can’t go charging in. It won’t be a rescue to him. He’ll fight you. They’ve had him a long time. All the life he remembers or his whole life. It makes no difference. There’s no new urgency in his situation. Breaking their control over him, even if that means controlling him yourself, is the only way you can protect both of you.”

Less concerned with the asset’s wellbeing, Fury added, “You have to get him away from them or otherwise remove him from the field. Turn him or find a way to secure him away from his HYDRA commanders, but he isn’t your mission, HYDRA is.”

Steve tried to argue. Fury wouldn’t budge. _No wonder he and Pierce get along_ , he thought as he took his bike across the bridge into the city. It was an uncharitable thought, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. At least Steve could probably expect a few days without seeing anyone. The STRIKE team was on call so he couldn’t leave the DC area but it would still be a break from this place.

He really needed that break. And Natasha was right. He couldn’t rescue the asset yet. He needed a plan.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The HYDRA testimonials part of this fic.

Two days later, Steve got called in to work with Barton and Romanoff. It wasn’t enough time for Steve to get his head together. He wasn’t ready to see Fury _or_ Romanoff. It was only because Barton was still recovering from being under Loki’s control that Steve went along. Hill ran the briefing. Hawkeye flew the quinjet and stayed outside to cover the entrances and warn them of patrol movements while Black Widow and Captain America went in.

It didn’t go well. Although they accomplished the mission, the friction between them left Steve in particular angry and miserable. While they waited for Clint and the quinjet, Steve considered that it had at least given him something legitimate to complain about to Rumlow's team later, but that didn’t feel like much of a bright side. Steve wanted his friends back. He’d thought they were friends, anyway, but maybe he’d never known any of these people at all.

“For a moment there, I thought you were about to blow the op shouting at me,” Natasha said calmly, eyebrow raised.

Steve hadn’t been happy not to know Natasha had a secondary mission to retrieve something from the lab, but that wasn’t what they were talking about. Jaw clenched, he looked away. Unluckily for him, there wasn't much to look at. They were surrounded by a flat expanse of sandy ground and a few sparse bushes.

He turned back to her. “I _was_ pretty mad. I'm still mad.” He made himself relax his jaw and neck. “But working with STRIKE has taught me a lot about how SHIELD is different from what I'm used to. I know Specialists tend to have their own missions. Besides, the assignment was Fury’s call, not yours.”

He didn’t blame her for the mission. He just hated that she’d actually made a good argument for things he’d prefer not to even think about.

“I could have turned it down.” She wasn't arguing.

Steve, poised to argue back about _anything_ , deflated.

“So could I,” he said, his poisonous anger draining out of him.

She nodded. The subject was closed. They both knew what they weren't saying.

Steve marched onto the quinjet with grim new determination. Maybe he couldn’t go back to work with HYDRA and the asset and keep telling himself he was a good man, but he’d never fit any of his superiors’ idea of a good soldier. Instead, because he _had to_ , he’d be a good _operative_. He could save the asset. Maybe, just maybe, he could even save Bucky. By the time he was done, it would be too late to save himself, but that thought was nothing new. Since he didn’t like the world he lived in, he would have to make the world change.

HYDRA would probably appreciate the sentiment. Some version of it.

 

And so it was that over the next couple weeks Steve found that he went from not knowing much of anything about the asset to having far too much information. They were careful not to invite him to participate again and the asset didn’t seem to share any missions with them, but his teammates were suddenly sharing with virtually no prompting. It seemed they were as thirsty to tell him about it as he was desperate to get deep enough to stop what they were doing.

“Honestly, fucking it isn’t much of a hardship,” one of the women told him. “It’s skilled and obedient. It learns preferences really fast. It’s not like sex with an animal or a machine. It’s smart and intuitive and has a gorgeous cock. I think there was some talk of a breeding program until they realized having multiple Winter Soldiers together led to the aggressive pack behavior? Something like that. It’s definitely a better lay than my last two boyfriends.”

Added to that was, “Oh, yeah, it’s very respectful anytime I let it fuck me. It’s dangerous to do it that way, we don’t want it getting ideas about who’s in charge, but it likes it enough it never protests submitting to the guys after. It knows its place.”

And:

“We were sort of hoping it would have a praise kink. It would be safer for everyone if all we had to do was talk to keep it under control. It just gets anxious when no one touches it for too long, you know?”

And:

“I mean it, it _likes_ a hand over its mouth while it’s got a cock in its ass. Calms it right down. Not a sound and zero resistance. Techs didn’t even have to restrain it before they could touch its arm. It went totally pliant.”

And:

“I remember this one time I gave it a couple M&Ms? It just swallowed them whole. It thought they were pills. It’s not dumb, though. It doesn’t try to swallow bullets or anything. I wanted to try it with Skittles, but it almost choked on the Atomic Fireballs and after the Warheads incident the tech team said we had to stop giving it candy because it was getting spooked by the bite guard they use with it.”

And:

“No, really, it used to ask us to touch it all the time. It just got a bit too demanding so Rumlow had to forbid it from begging for about half a dozen missions in a row before the lesson stuck. It has trouble remembering things mission to mission. That’s why we have to keep reinforcing its memory of our dominance physically.”

And:

“I wouldn’t dare try the stuff we do with our asset with any of the other Winter Soldiers. Back in training, we all had to study the video of their rebellion and they’re fucking terrifying. They don’t even have metal limbs and they tore people apart with their bare hands! The one we’ve got was the only one acting to protect a handler.”

And finally:

“If you can handle it in the field okay, you might get the Secretary’s permission to schedule some time to get to know it better, but you’ve gotta make sure you’ve separated the asset from Barnes in your head. It’s trained to spot weakness and its Barnes Protocols can be dangerous. It was programmed with a bunch of scenarios and some of them involve killing people who say the wrong thing.”

Steve knew his discomfort was still obvious, but he was fine with that. No one would buy it if he tried to sound approving. The very idea still made him sick to his stomach. Instead, he let his impatience and dissatisfaction with the rest of SHIELD show and didn’t have to do much at all to convince them of his reluctant horrified fascination with the Winter Soldier program. He listened, learned, seethed, and tried to prepare for the next time he saw the asset.


	11. Chapter 11

Rumlow was kind enough to give Steve a heads up before the asset joined them on their next mission. He  _said_ the asset would be there, at least. When Steve didn’t see him for the entire mission, Steve started to wonder, but no, there he was, waiting for them at their extraction point.

The whole front of the asset’s masked goggled face and armor-clad torso was covered in blood. Concerned, Steve stepped forward.

The asset’s attention snapped to him just as Rumlow snapped his hand out to stop Steve from getting any closer.

 _It’s not Bucky_ , he reminded himself.

“Soldier! Injury report!” Rumlow barked.

“Commander. Minor bruising to left lower abdomen, superficial abrasion and first degree burns to right forearm.”

“And the blood?”

“Not mine, Commander.”

While the sight remained horrifying, Steve was relieved the asset wasn’t more seriously injured.

“Nothing requiring intervention now?”

A headshake resulted in a cascade of drops of blood from the ends of the asset’s hair.

“Good,” said Rumlow. “Get on the jet. Reports can wait until we’re clean.”

Once everyone was strapped in, Steve found himself next to Rumlow who was opposite the asset. “Hey,” he said softy.

The asset’s goggles pointed at him briefly before turning back in Rumlow’s direction.

“Asset. You remember who this is?” Rumlow asked, jerking a thumb at Steve.

The asset shook his head. _Its_ head. Steve had to remember to use the right pronouns until he could save him, _it_ , from HYDRA. They had to believe Steve believed as they did.

Steve hadn't really believed about the asset's memory issues. He'd thought they were making excuses.

“Nothing?” he asked quietly. _It's not Bucky._

The asset kept its attention on Rumlow. Made sense, Steve supposed, that he, it, wouldn't answer.

Rumlow rolled his shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, Soldier. Just a retention check. You know we’ll tell you what you need to know.”

The asset’s head dipped briefly in a nod.

Sitting back, Rumlow said, “It usually takes a while for it to remember new faces. Guess we both hoped you'd be an exception. Sorry, Cap.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. Disappointment and horror sat like mix of ice and stones in his gut. How was he supposed to get through to someone who couldn't remember him? _It's not Bucky._

Instead of returning directly to the Triskelion, the quinjet detoured to a facility Rumlow called The Lockbox.

There was no need to be nervous, really. It was in HYDRA’s best interest to continue their deception and Steve would play along. They were just a regular SHIELD team on their way back from a mission. Stopping somewhere it sounded like the team would be alone. With the asset. And Steve.

Well, fuck. And Steve wasn't optimistic about _fuck_ not being on the agenda.

_It's not Bucky. Don't even think it._

All the SHIELD logos were projections. Curious, Steve asked and was told the place was covert. SHIELD symbols were only displayed when the facility was occupied.

Did that mean they projected the HYDRA skull and tentacles when only HYDRA personnel were present? Steve considered the feasibility of “discovering” HYDRA now. Wasn't the right time, he decided as the team tromped through the facility after Rumlow and the Winter Soldier. They'd never believe he was willing to work with HYDRA so soon. Not without… not without some sort of evidence first that he was willing to compromise his principles.

Evidence. His gaze lingered on the bloodied black Kevlar and silver plates of the shoulders ahead of him.

He knew what they wanted to see. How far Steve could let himself go was another question entirely.

Rollins punched an access code into a panel and a door slid open.

Turning to the team, Rumlow said, “Stow your gear in here for now. Command says we’re to stay put until 0320, so we might as well get clean and a bit more comfortable. Showers are across the way.” He gave the asset a nudge in the direction of what Steve could now see was a small room with a wall of lockers and a few benches and followed it in.

“The showers are divided," Rumlow told him, low-voiced. “None of us have got anything the others haven't seen, but if you want, you can have the ladies' side to yourself.”

The offer wasn't kindness. Neither of them had forgotten Rumlow’s words the last time. Did Steve want to be part of the team or not?

Still, he hesitated.

“You don't have to join us, Cap,” said Rumlow. “But the invitation is there and it's not for _my_ benefit.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Steve followed his eyes to the asset. _It's not Bucky._ It had taken off its blood-encrusted goggles and was field stripping its rifle with absolute focus. A flap of material, seared along the line of the tear, hung from its right forearm. Beneath, Steve could see the burn it had reported. The skin was a faint pink with darker lines of the scratches. The asset worked as if the injury did not exist, steadily spreading out components and cleaning supplies in a semicircle on a bench.

“Here? Now?” He didn't pretend to misunderstand.

Rumlow just raised his eyebrows. “We got the better part of eleven hours. Our Winter Soldier just completed a mission mostly by itself. It’s performed well enough for a reward and it’s been carrying out complex tasks alone so it needs to be reminded that it’s ours. Might as well take care of it while we’ve got time.”

_Take care of it?_ Too much to hope he meant _see_ _to the asset’s injuries_ , though, if its supersoldier healing was anything like his, it would be unmarked by the time they left the Lockbox.

Steve pressed his lips together and stalled by trying to find a good place to lean his shield.

_It’s not Bucky._

It couldn’t be Bucky.

_Zola’s experiments, body never recovered._

It didn’t matter if it was or not.

_It mattered more than anything else in the world._

He had to pass whatever test HYDRA came up with.

_He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do anything with it. Not like this._

Would imagining the asset was the real Bucky make this better or worse? God, Steve wished the question hadn’t occurred to him. Couldn’t unthink it now.

Better, because he was sure Bucky would have understood, even though that didn’t make things okay. Bucky had been practical like that. He always found a way to get stuff done, even when it seemed impossible. He’d have got on great with the Black Widow.

Worse, because to imagine Bucky in the asset’s place was to disrespect both the asset _and_ Bucky. The asset deserved better than to be used as a substitute and Steve shouldn’t be letting himself think of Bucky in those terms anyway. They'd promised to try not to. Sometimes, it felt like he had so little of himself left in this time already. He couldn’t let himself take the easier path just because Bucky wasn’t around to worry about it anymore.

It was like the first time they’d pushed him out on stage to sell war bonds, only this time he really _would_ be as naked as he felt and he wouldn’t have his lines on the back of a prop shield. Again, Steve felt like an utter fraud. He should be fighting these people, not…

He squeezed his eyes shut and set the shield in a corner with his cowl and gloves draped over the top edge. He could barely stand to look at the items. Captain America had been his shame once, then his pride. If he caught his reflection in the vibranium now, would he recognize his face any more than the asset had? _It’s not Bucky_. If he went through with this, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look at himself again.

Natasha (who he had to remember not to call by first name) had said he should watch if he couldn’t bring himself to participate. Could he do that? Steve swallowed, sick with nerves and self-disgust.

He _had_ to.

So he’d do what he could to reduce his participation, get the Winter Soldier away from HYDRA as soon as he was able, and hope the gains were worth the losses.

He straightened and turned back to Rumlow. “Re-introduce me to the asset,” he said.


	13. Chapter 13

Rumlow’s smile was triumphant and almost hungry. “Oh, don't worry, Cap. We're gonna get you two _well_ acquainted.”

This was it, then. Committed now, Steve would have swallowed, but his throat was too tight and his mouth too dry.

Their few lingering teammates laughed a little as they finished stripping and filed out of the room to the showers. The water was already running.

His uniform stuck unpleasantly to his skin, not fitting right. Despite how filthy he felt and the many times he'd been naked in front of his teammates before, he was afraid. Maybe it was because he wasn't sure he could coax up a flicker of arousal.

They'd notice he wasn't enjoying himself. Notice and wonder about his motives.

“Asset. You’ve got…” the STRIKE commander squinted at the digital clock at the back of the room, “eight minutes to finish up and present yourself for inspection and maintenance. You know the drill.”

The asset nodded without faltering in its movements.

Watching it, Steve shifted uncomfortably. All attempts to conjure a fantasy led straight to Peggy, which was wrong, or Bucky, which was _more_ wrong. Desperate, he tried to think of Hollywood stars, the chorus girls, anyone else. _It’s not Bucky._

“You up for this or not, Rogers?” Rumlow side-eyed him, stripping off the top half of his tactical suit.

 _Don’t lie if you can avoid it,_ Romanoff had coached him. _Give them a truth they’ll find more appealing._

“You wouldn't think I’d still get stage fright, but I guess I'm a little nervous.” He hoped he looked nervous instead of just sick. “I've never… not with…”

Lobbing his shirt into a bin, Rumlow huffed a laugh, brief and maybe relieved. “Hey, no problem. It ain't a man.”

_...an audience. A stranger._

Reassembled rifle laid aside, the asset produced a pair of knives. They’d clearly been wiped on something in the field and just as clearly offered an explanation for the volume of blood the asset still wore.

“Don’t worry about it, Cap. We were all nervous our first time. Won’t be any problem for the asset.” _It’s not Bucky._ “It’s got a mouth that could get a corpse to stand up and take notice.”

Any interest Steve’s dick might have taken died instantly. “Gee, thanks, Rumlow,” he muttered. He didn’t think the other man heard him.

Rumlow’s pants went the same way as his shirt had. Down to his shorts now, he crossed his arms and regarded Steve impatiently. “You can sit things out,” he said. “I’ll tell the others you got cold feet. No hard feelings.”

Steve put a hand behind his neck. It felt like ice. _Don’t lie_. He chuckled mirthlessly. “Hard feelings are sort of the problem. I know what I’ve been told but I’m really not comfortable with this.” Steve gestured to the asset. All the others were in the showers already so he hoped only Rumlow and the asset could hear him. He knew he was pushing things a little but Rumlow could push back. The whole team didn’t need to hear his reservations. Steve just needed to air them one last time on the off chance something got through. “It’s not right. It can’t say no.”

Incredulous, Rumlow laughed. “Are you kidding me? We can’t give it those sorts of choices. It’s killed handlers before. If it didn’t know how much it needs us, it’d slaughter us all in seconds.” He considered, “Well, maybe not you, supersoldier and the Barnes thing and all. It was so disappointed when you left last time.” He grabbed a handful of brown hair. “Weren’t you, soldier?”

It nodded as much as it could in his tight grasp, obeying the implicit order to agree despite the confusion Steve saw on its face. He guessed it didn’t speak much after missions unless it was asked a direct open-ended question.

As soon as Rumlow released it, it went back to its knives, eyes fixed on its work.

“It’s made to need us for this. It can’t be unwilling. Wouldn’t think to say no even if it could. Didn’t we explain this a month ago?”

“Yeah, but…” Steve gestured helplessly. “Look, I know I keep going back and forth, but what am I missing here? This doesn’t feel right.” He had to take every chance he had.

“You’re _missing out_ is what you’re doing, Cap. Haven’t you seen how it watches you?” Rumlow gestured to the asset, which studiously ignored them in favor of putting its knives away and stripping off holsters and harnesses without looking up. “You’ll never be able to trust it to obey in the field until you’ve made it submit to you. Come on,” he coaxed. “What would make you more comfortable right now?”

“Pants,” Steve answered dryly. “For everyone.”

“Sorry, procedure calls for the asset to strip off and scrub down before…” Rumlow trailed off. “Huh. You know what?”

Warily, Steve asked, “What?”

“We can do pants,” he said. “Asset.”

It looked up, both hands still working to undo the many buckles and straps of its uniform. The mask had already come off. _It’s not Bucky._ Steve failed to catch its eyes.

“Revised orders. You got five minutes to clean and prepare yourself. Then report to V-012.”

With another nod, the asset stood up and unceremoniously began to strip naked.

“V-012?” Steve repeated.

“Visitor’s quarters,” said Rumlow. “Right. Five minutes. You too, Rogers. I’ll tell the rest.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask.

“You can grab sweats on your way down.” He shook his head. “Pants. What the hell are you getting shy on us for, Rogers? We all know what your junk looks like. Don’t worry about getting it up. That’s the _asset’s_ problem.”

With that, Rumlow finished stripping down to his skin and sauntered through the other door after the rest of the team.

Steve wasn't at all relieved not to be expected to get himself hard. _Don't think about it. Focus on the mission._

“You sure you don't remember me?” Steve asked the asset.

It didn’t respond. _It’s not Bucky._ Once its uniform was folded on the bench, it simply strode through the steamy doorway.

What did _prepare_ mean to it in this sort of situation? He didn’t think he wanted to know.

“STRIKE!” The Commander’s voice was clear above the pounding of the water. “Change of plans! We’re moving the party to V-012, the visitor’s quarters at the end of sublevel one.”

There were some grumbles.

“Hey!” Rumlow snapped sharply. “You remember your introductions to the program. No surprise Cap’s having a hard time adjusting. We’re to make it easier, not harder on him. Yeah, the showers are more convenient, but remember the last time we had it in a bed?”

For better or worse, Steve’s uniform was far simpler to get out of than the Winter Soldier’s.

He steeled himself and slunk warily into the showers.

“Cap,” acknowledged Rollins and moved over to give him space under the spray.

The water around the asset still had a definite red-brown tint to it. It was rinsing suds from its long hair with its right hand while its left.

Steve froze and stared. To his horror, he felt his cock stir.

It had two metal fingers in its ass. They were moving, stretching the ring of muscle.

He jerked his eyes away and hurriedly reached for the soap dispenser on the wall.

Preparation.

Unwillingly, his eyes went back to the asset. Three fingers now. Its cock was half-hard, but the expression on its face (Bucky’s face) was concentration, not pleasure.

Rumlow caught him looking and grinned at him from across the room. Steve jerked, flushing as the Commander gave himself a causal stroke before reaching for a towel.

He hadn’t forgotten anyone’s nakedness, it just hadn’t been the most relevant thing for a moment.

“Grab some pants. Let’s not worry about scrubbing more security footage than we have to, yeah? Second to last one in redoes the bed and last one in cleans the room,” Rumlow announced, rubbing his head with the towel before tossing it into a hamper. “Slowpoke supersoldiers excepted.” With something like a salute in Steve’s direction, he departed ahead of the crowd.

A burst of activity emptied the room of all but Steve and the asset again. He looked at it carefully. _Fuck_ that look of concentration was familiar. _It’s not Bucky._ If he told himself enough times, maybe he could silence the scream echoing in his head.

The asset removed its fingers abruptly and grabbed a hand towel to go over its arm, carefully cleaning the metal digits. It glanced at him and Steve turned his face away and quickly finished scrubbing his own body. They rinsed off in silent tandem.


	14. Chapter 14

Once they were back in the locker room, Steve located the stack of sweatpants in a cabinet by the sinks and pulled on a pair as soon as he’d dried himself enough not to drip. A rustling noise brought his attention back to the asset, who was rummaging through the pockets of its uniform pants. It came up with a small white tube and a rectangular foil package. The former was a brand he recognized as modern lubricant for sex and _of course_ HYDRA made sure the asset carried the lube they used to rape it. Another small horror but maybe also a minor relief that it was allowed the stuff. They hadn't always in Steve’s nightmares.

The other item was some sort of custom energy bar, Steve guessed, which seemed confirmed as the asset tore the foil off, shoved the whole thing in its mouth and swallowed almost without chewing. Then, with a furtive glance at Steve, it hesitated before it pulled out another and, in a completely unexpected development, slid it down the bench in his direction.

Steve stared in wary surprise. “Thanks?” he tried to say, but it had already departed without another look in his direction. He’d never seen it hurry before, not like that. He didn’t think it was eagerness that drove it. What would happen if it exceeded the five minutes Rumlow had given it?

He hoped it hadn’t been more than five minutes. He didn’t _think_ it had. He didn’t think he’d be able to get through a punishment.

Steve picked up the presumptive energy bar. It was heavier than he'd expected. Tearing the foil revealed a strange jelly-like cloudy yellowish block. He couldn't think of a reason for the asset to poison him anymore than he could think of a reason for it to give this to him but it didn't seem to have done the asset any immediate harm. Trust had to start _somewhere_. When he tried it, he discovered it tasted mostly of oil, faintly of something floral and what might have been smoke or bacon flavoring along with the chalky chemical taste of vitamin supplements. The consistency reminded him unpleasantly of the sensation of clotted blood sliding down his throat. He nearly gagged, but he was always desperate for calories after a mission and it had been a gift, so he choked it down and gulped water from the tap until he could barely taste it.

He had to get a grip. He’d done all his hesitating already. There was no taking back his choice. If he hadn’t had all of HYDRA to worry about, if his only concern had been rescuing Bucky again, _no,_ rescuing the asset _, fuck,_ hecould have tried to take it and run when they’d been left behind together in the shower. But Steve had a mission.

_You know better. He’s not Bucky. He, it wouldn’t respond to you._ Natasha, (Romanoff damnit again) was right. It would fight. It wouldn’t see itself as rescued.

Maybe Steve was reading the asset wrong. It wasn’t Bucky. Bucky had never moved like that. His movements had never been so smooth and measured. Bucky had never done a lot of things the asset did. He couldn’t (didn’t want to) imagine Bucky becoming the asset. Maybe the asset _did_ like its life?

Self-disgust at those thoughts swamped and shamed him. That train of thought was how HYDRA was trying to hook him in and he refused to be fooled into fooling himself that what they did with the asset was anything but what it was: rape.

They'd left the door open, so the “party” was audible as soon as Steve reached the correct floor. He was slipping - and badly. How could he possibly go in there like this? How could he go in there at all?

They'd never let him get away as a witness only.

It felt like his bare feet approached the door without input from his brain.

Rollins stuck his head out and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Rollins beckoned, then frowned before ducking back in. "Cap’s here,” he said, a hint of surprise in the declaration.

"Great," came Rumlow’s voice. "Asset. Stay.”

Steve turned and went through the door on automatic because that was what you did when you came to an open door you were supposed to go through and because if he let himself think about it he knew he'd run screaming the other direction.

Thank God everyone was in fact wearing pants. A good thing Steve was wearing them too because they gave him something he could do with his hands.

"Ah, hey," he said and put his hands in the pockets of his sweats. At first, he wasn't sure where the asset was but all the agents with the exception of Rollins and Rumlow were clustered around the bed and Steve made a guess.

“Glad you could make it,” Rumlow said warmly and put an arm on Steve’s back to guide him forward. The crowd parted before them.

On the bed, the naked asset lay belly-up with its eyes closed. It was erect and leaking, skin flushed. Hands caressed it as the other agents drew away. In repose, it looked more like Bucky than ever before. Steve had thought this much through already, considered that it might be easier for him do it from behind so he wouldn't see Bucky’s face. Now he thought differently. He'd never had Bucky like that and if he really was Bucky, a blow job wouldn't hold as much significance. He guessed it depended on what STRIKE expected.

“So, ah, what now?”

Rumlow reached out a hand and wrapped it around the asset’s erection with the same kind of casual confidence he might use to turn a doorknob. “Now you touch it,” he said. He swiped his thumb over the asset’s slit. It inhaled sharply, but checked the movement of its hips. “We've found it's easier if you get the touching boundary out of the way first.”

Steve swallowed. He wished he'd seen Bucky like this just once so he had something to compare.

“Here.” Rumlow wiped his hand on his SHIELD-issue sweats. “I'll make this simple. Give me your hand.”

Mechanically, like it didn't even belong to him, Steve pulled his right hand from his pocket and offered it to him. Rumlow took it and pressed the palm to the asset’s hot flesh. Both supersoldiers flinched. Steve's fingers curled around it reflexively.

“Now move,” Rumlow ordered but Steve was frozen, unable to do anything but stare. “What, never had your hand on a cock before? You’ve got one yourself. I mean, you know touching it won't actually make you go blind, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve croaked. What the fuck was he doing?

“Asset. Help him out a little,” said Rumlow and suddenly the asset was bucking up into Steve’s loose grip. “You ever ride a horse?”

_In France, during the war_. Steve nodded, still feeling divorced from everything that was happening. He could see his hand moving over the asset’s erection, could hear Rumlow talking, and was vaguely aware of the rest of the team watching, but none of it felt real.

“It's awkward and uncomfortable at first. If you're not confident you'll probably pull too hard on the reins or try to give it its head too often. Don't get me wrong, that can be good. Animals have useful instincts. Sometimes they're smart in ways people aren't.” Rumlow slipped his hand past Steve’s and grabbed the asset’s balls, squeezing them. The asset froze, gasping in the closest thing to a vocalization Steve had heard the whole time. “But to really handle it?” he went on. “You gotta get into a good rhythm with it. Order comes through pain. If it knows what gets it the whip or earns it a treat, it’ll know how to behave. Compliance is easier and safer than non-compliance. That's how trust and loyalty are built.” He let go. The asset didn't relax before he said, “Now tighten your grip.”

And somehow Steve just let it happen. When he tightened his fist a little, the asset trembled, panting with his, _its_ , head thrown back to expose its throat and _damn_ if _it_ didn't look so much like Steve had tried not to imagine Bucky would.

 


	15. Chapter 15

_Oh god. Bucky._ Steve had made a promise and he was breaking it.

He let go and stumbled back, nearly treading on Rollins’ foot. “I can't. I'm sorry. I tried but they look too much alike. I _can't_.”

No one asked who he was talking about.

Rumlow frowned like Steve had really disappointed him. He wanted to fall through the floor like the Tesseract on the Valkyrie. “What, you never looked at Barnes like that? Don't have to be queer to know he was a good-looking guy.”

“Like - No! Where the hell did you get that idea? We were like brothers.” It wasn't quite a lie. They’d _wanted_ to feel that way.

“So close your eyes. The asset’s willing and you can't tell me you don't have an itch.” To Steve’s increasing horror, he realized he'd grown hard enough to produce a bulge in the front of his sweats, though it was subsiding now.

“No,” he said shakily. “I can't. I know it's not him, but this feels like…” Like about a hundred kinds of wrong but he could only think of one that might excuse him. “...incest.” _Brothers_  was a lie he'd told himself and others often enough that he could almost believe it was true.

Shaking his head, Rumlow huffed. “Figures. You always run away when shit gets personal Rogers, you notice that?”

That wasn’t quite fair, was it? Suddenly unsure, Steve struggled to come up with a counter argument. “But…” he began.

“Yeah,” Rumlow insisted. “You always do this. You make us think you want to be one of us and then you go and get all...” He gestured vaguely in Steve’s direction. “Morally superior and shit. You judging us, Cap, is that it?” He stepped in close. “Think you’re too good for this?”

Steve shied back into Rollins. “No! I just. I can’t.”

“Excuses,” someone hissed.

“ _I_ feel judged,” said one of the others.

“I’m not! I don’t!” he protested. He raised his hands placatingly. “Look, this job is fucked up. It’s _always_ been fucked up. But I chose to come back to it. I know I’m not…”

“Then fucking prove it already,” snarled Rumlow. He grabbed the asset’s hair and tugged him _it it it_ off the bed to kneel before pushing him roughly to Steve’s feet.

“But…” Steve found the words this time, but they came out small and weak. “It looks like him.”

Rumlow remained unmoved, merciless. “Like who.”

“BUCKY!” he burst out, much louder than he’d intended. The name echoed off the walls in the sudden silence.

Without taking his eyes from Steve, Rumlow said, “Asset. You have all the information required. Identify this man.”

The asset rose and sat back on his heels. “Captain Steven Grant Rogers. Captain America.” It stared fixedly somewhere in the vicinity of Steve’s knees. They felt weaker than they had since he’d gotten off the train after losing Bucky.

“How do you know?”

“You have addressed him variously as ‘Cap’ and ’Rogers.’ You mentioned Barnes. He said _Bucky_ , the nickname of Captain America’s close friend I resemble. I was very thoroughly educated on the subjects of Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Why?”

“Captain America was an enemy of HYDRA, status unknown. His close associates were a continuing threat. I was a ringer for James Barnes. The appearance of James Barnes was deemed potentially useful. I was trained to impersonate him.”

“HYDRA?” Steve whispered. He swayed, momentarily disoriented.

“Yeah. Russian HYDRA,” said Rumlow, shrugging like it was something Steve should have expected. “HYDRA had cells all over. The Red Skull just co-opted the German one and made it public. Don’t worry about it. We’ve got it now. We’re all on the same side here.”

“You were HYDRA,” Steve said, staring at the asset. He’d known that. He had. It just hadn’t meant anything since he’d seen the Winter Soldier’s face. It hadn’t mattered until he’d heard him say it. “You killed…”

Rumlow’s eyes widened.

 _Howard_ , he almost said, but his brain caught up to his mouth just in time. That was… He wasn’t supposed to talk about that.

“Look, Cap,” Rumlow said hurriedly. “I’m sorry if you’re having a mental breakdown or something, but we gotta take care of the asset. We’ve made introductions. It’s not your Bucky. You gonna help with it or not?”

“Why are you so invested in this?"

"Maybe we got a bet. Maybe we just want to see two supersoldiers go at it.”

Was he joking?

“I'm not here for your entertainment, Rumlow.” There. That came out firm and steady.

Arms crossed over his bare chest, the Commander just stared him down.

Steve dropped his eyes. They landed on the asset. There was nothing in his expression now to remind him of Bucky.

“I thought you wanted to help?” Rumlow cajoled, voice low and soft.

“I. I do,” he stuttered, feeling control of the situation slip away from him.

“Then close your eyes,” Rumlow whispered.

“Why?” Steve was suspicious.

Rumlow murmured a command to the asset that Steve didn’t understand but it ended with солдат, so he guessed it was Russian.

There were hands suddenly on the elastic band of his sweatpants, cold on his right hip. His pants dropped to his ankles, exposing his traitor cock, though it was mostly limp again now. Skin all over his body prickled unpleasantly.

“No,” Steve said, fending off the asset and covering himself. “I _can’t_. It’s…”

“Ssh. It’s okay, Cap. You _can_ ,” said Rumlow. “Now, asset. Introduce yourself. Properly.”

The asset blinked up at him. His eyes were so like Bucky’s that Steve stared over his head instead, at the rumpled bed behind Rumlow.

“I am a Winter Soldier,” said the asset. “I exist to serve at the discretion of my superiors. Use me as you wish. I have the appearance of a man, but many times the fortitude. I do not fail. Pain means little to me. I am designed to be used.”

He’d heard this before. He knew what was coming. He could have backed away but there was nowhere to go except through his teammates. He couldn’t do that.

“If the Winter Soldier is not to your taste, I can be Bucky Barnes for you, Captain,” the asset informed him. “Does it please you?”

“No,” he said as calmly as he could and was gutted by the disappointment on the asset’s face. He wanted to cry. Only their audience prevented him from breaking and running.

“Are you Bucky Barnes, asset?” Rumlow’s question was quiet. Steve was almost tricked into leaning in, closer to the asset. Almost. _It’s not Bucky. It’s not. It can’t be_.

“No, Commander. I was made by scientists and engineers for infiltration, assassination, combat, and recreation,” _it_ reported.

There was a choking noise. It took a moment for Steve to realize he was the one making it. He stopped.

“That clear enough, Rogers?” Rumlow asked.

“Yes.” That wasn’t enough. He could see it on the Commander’s face. “It’s not Bucky,” he said with all the surety a month of repetition had provided. “It looks like him but it isn’t.”

“You still want to help?” The tone was cautious, forgiving.

“I. I want to help.” He wracked his brain for the right thing to say. “It looks like Bucky so I can’t touch it but I want to help.” His head swam. Low blood sugar maybe. Whatever the asset had given him hadn't been enough.

“That’s right. So close your eyes,” he was instructed, “and let the asset work.”


	16. Chapter 16

It made sense, didn’t it? Steve wanted to help the asset. The asset wasn’t Bucky, wasn’t even his friend, but it needed him. They each had their missions. Why was Steve resisting? He should let it do what it wanted.

But the asset couldn’t want this. Not really. _Steve_ didn’t want this. Not really. Why was it happening?

Movement behind him. A soft thud. Something hit the back of his knees and he could have resisted but his feet went out from under him before it occurred to him to try. His butt hit a cushion and his hands clutched at padded arms hard enough they creaked. Oh. A chair. A wooden armchair.

Steve blinked and found himself staring into the asset’s frown. It shuffled closer on its knees and put its hands, one warm and one cool, on his thighs just above his knees.

“Whatd’ya say, Soldier?” said Rumlow and Steve said “no” just as the asset said “please.”

Someone laughed at Steve’s back, maybe Rollins.

They stared at each other. _Damn_ its eyes were Bucky’s perfect blue. Its face was Bucky’s perfect face too. The gleaming metal shoulder and arm ruined the effect somewhat. Steve thought he might be grateful for that.

A ghost of the hungry smile from earlier returned to Rumlow’s face. “Oh, I think you’ll be persuaded.”

Keeping his knees apart with gentle but insistent pressure, the asset leaned in and breathed hot moist air over Steve’s cock. Steve drew in a shuddering breath in response and willed himself not to react, but even he wasn’t sure why he was resisting. He could have moved his hands to protect himself but didn’t. Why didn’t he?

“Please, Captain,” it said and repeated the action, this time even closer and hotter, close enough that it could have touched him with its tongue if it had tried. Steve clutched the arms of the chair. One made a crunching noise.

This wasn’t Steve’s fantasy. Not just because he wasn’t supposed to have fantasies about his very male best friend but because he’d never wanted this. Not even in his guiltiest fantasies.

It should never have been the asset, like this.

“You wanna help?”

“Yeah, but--”

The rest of what he’d meant to say was cut off by a gasp as the asset took his words as consent or permission or whatever it had been waiting for. Hot wet muscles engulfed his cock as the asset sucked him down. He shuddered, chest heaving like he’d just finished running. It wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. It wasn’t just hot and wet. He could feel movement, the asset’s tongue and the way the muscles of the asset’s throat moved. Its lower lip against his balls. His head fell back. The ceiling in here was that creepy hexagonal tile SHIELD favored in places meant to secure enhanced people. How had he not noticed that before? Thinking about that was better than thinking about what was happening between his legs. God. If he squeezed his eyes shut it was too easy to imagine what it looked like. Bucky’s dark head with that strangely suitable long hair with his mouth stretched wide and his nose nestled in Steve’s pubic hair.

He wasn’t moving. Steve opened his eyes. Yes, it was exactly what he’d thought he’d see. The asset had taken him in and stopped. He had to be choking at least a little, though he showed no hint of discomfort. Steve liked to think of himself as proportional, but he was definitely on the large end of the scale and he wasn’t even all the way hard yet.

“Convinced yet?” Rumlow asked casually.

“Ah…” Steve said intelligently. “What?”

Laughs all around. He didn’t think he’d meant to be funny.

“You gotta tell it what to do, Cap.” Rumlow smirked. “It can hold its breath for a few minutes but it’ll hold that position until it passes out if you don’t give it a command. We’re doing this for a purpose, remember. You’re helping to give it order, direction, discipline. It’s just a bonus if you both like it. You’re being helpful.”

“I… am?” Steve needed to do something here. He squeezed his eyes shut again, drooping like an overwatered cut flower. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “What. I don’t…” If suck jobs always left him feeling drunk like this he wasn’t sure he ever wanted one again. “This is helpful?”

Steve flinched when Rumlow stepped forward, patting the asset’s shoulder as he did, and laid his hand on Steve’s hand. “Very helpful,” he intoned. “Gimme your hand again, okay, pal?”

 _Pal_. He was Rumlow’s pal? That was good. He’d never expected that. Bucky used to call him that. Good word. What did Rumlow want again? “Okay,” he said and let his teammate pick up his hand without resistance and deposit it on the asset’s head.

“Remember what I said about the reins?” Rumlow murmured.

Blinking heavily, Steve nodded. “Don’ pull too hard.”

“That’s right. You want it controlled but not suffocated.” He guided Steve through a few shallow tugs. The asset’s throat spasmed around him and the pair of them whimpered together. As soon as the other hand lifted, Steve pushed the asset away so he could breathe. He looked up at him, seeming as dazed as he felt, face flushed and mouth reddened.

That was a face he’d seen on Bucky a couple times and it was like being kicked in the gut by a horse. “You’re not Bucky,” Steve said. His skin felt too hot and his eyes were burning.

“No, no, it’s not,” answered Rumlow for it. “You want it to be?”

“Hell no,” Steve said. He thought that was what he said at least. “We weren’t like that.”

“But the asset is.”

Steve considered this. “Yeah,” he concluded.

“So close your eyes and just let it be good to you, alright?”

The asset locked eyes with Steve and licked its lips. It was a very deliberate move.

“Oh god.” Steve shuddered again. He closed his eyes. “Is this happening?” he asked no one in particular. It didn’t seem like it could be. How the hell had he got there?

“Yeah, it really is.”

“Please,” said the asset again. “Steve. Please.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said weakly, unable to deny those words in that voice, and nearly shouted as the asset went straight back to work. His hand rested on the top of its head but it seemed perfectly capable of figuring out what to do by itself.

Some of the others were talking, but he couldn’t spare the concentration to try to understand them.

 _Fuck_ it was good. While Steve’s experience was admittedly limited, he didn’t think it was normal to be having this much trouble thinking straight.

Orgasm always took him by surprise since the serum. Too many years of rarely daring to get that worked up and now that everything functioned as it should, his brain and body didn’t seem to be sharing information very well. He couldn’t identify the familiar warnings. It just kept being good. Overwhelmingly so. He pulled away as soon as he could, knowing it was too late, but the asset was a pro. It swallowed and swallowed again, milking every last drop and laving its tongue over him until he was clean of anything but saliva.

Stunned, Steve slumped in the chair and panted. He opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling tiles again. “Wow.” He knew there was something he should be upset about but he couldn’t quite grasp it through the haze of endorphins. There was something… He looked down.

The asset sat back on its heels again with a small smile. Pleased with itself, Steve thought.

Then Rumlow said, “Good. Glad that worked out. Bed now, asset,” and the pleasure slipped off its face as totally as if it had put on the mask it wore for missions.


	17. Chapter 17

The asset rose fluidly and stepped back until it came up against the side of the bed. Bucky’s eyes stared at Steve, moving slowly over him from bare feet to pooled sweatpants to spit-wet privates and limp cock up his naked torso and at last over his face. Steve shivered. Should he pull his pants up? It seemed kind of pointless. He’d be admitting weakness and STRIKE wasn’t exactly tolerant of weakness.

“Now,” Rumlow repeated and the asset bent backward and shimmied up the bed so everything above its knees rested on the deep gray bedspread. It brought its feet up to the edge of the bed and its hands together under the small of its back. Did the metal hand hurt to lie on? It didn’t give any sign of discomfort, just tucked its hands out of the way and kept its body open and relaxed. Between its spread legs, its erection bobbed. Rumlow grabbed it and pumped a few times until the asset’s toes curled and its hips jerked. “Got your attention now, Soldier?” he asked and it nodded jerkily. “How about you, Rogers?”

 _Don’t lie_. “We’re all going to hell,” Steve croaked sincerely, prompting a ripple of amusement through the spectators.

Rumlow barked a laugh and looked him over, one hand firmly squeezing the asset, who had craned his head to the side so he _IT!_ could see Steve or maybe just follow its handler’s attention.

There was probably too much blood in his face right now for his cock to fill again and he was really really glad.

“Thanks for priming it, Cap.” When Steve didn’t answer, Rumlow asked, “You alright there? Ready for more?” He was more amused than concerned and not doing much to hide it.

“I… uh… _what_?”

“You _know_ what,” Rumlow told him, smirking. He smacked the asset’s closest ankle and it quickly spread itself wider.

Steve looked away and swallowed. Full circle. Back where they’d started. Only this time, Steve had already given in once and let them escalate.

“You don’t want to reward it?” Rumlow cajoled but Steve’s head was starting to clear a little and he found it in himself to resist again. What the hell had happened?

“No,” he said. "I’m… I’m done, thanks.” The words hung awkwardly between them. Thanks? Had he actually said _thanks_? Flushing, Steve put his hands in his lap and wished again that he could just plummet right through the floor. He’d had a plan. Things hadn’t gone too off course, they just felt that way because he’d always hated the plan.

The Commander raised both eyebrows. “You sure? It’s gonna get messy awful fast, Cap, if you change your mind.”

The very idea turned Steve’s stomach.

He shook his head. “I’m sure,” he said firmly, holding Rumlow’s gaze until the other man nodded, smile dimming. He’d had a plan and now Natasha’s other advice came back to him. _A more appealing truth_. “That was...” He hesitated. _Get a grip. Give them what they want_. “Better than I expected. But I’m still having trouble keeping them straight in my head and I’m not up for fucking it with my eyes closed.” God he was going to hate himself in the morning. Or maybe in the next two seconds. “You go ahead,” he said. “But… I’ll try to watch. I want to understand. I… need to see. See it’s not him.”

Grinning in sickening triumph, Rumlow promised, “We’ll put on a show, Cap. Educate you a bit. Get you over that little hang up.”

This was, very much, Rumlow’s show. The rest of the team might as well be extras on a set. Fine by Steve. He didn’t want to know these people. His enemies. Easier to keep thinking of them as higher quality HYDRA goons. It was the Commander’s confidence he had to win, which probably meant he had to convince Rollins too because Rumlow relied on Rollins, but that was all.

Rumlow turned to the Bucky-lookalike. It shifted its head back into position without prompting. “Bet you fifty bucks the asset can convince you to change your mind.”

 _It’s not Bucky_. “Not today. I need to get my head straight.”

Shrugging, Rumlow said, “Fine. Suit yourself, but get comfortable because we might be at it a while.”

Relief mingled with horrible anticipation. Steve might have been excused, but the asset was most definitely not. _It’s not Bucky_. He did take the opportunity to pull up his pants but that somehow made him feel more uncomfortable than less. He’d get up, but he didn’t want the attention back on him. Not that he imagined he wasn’t being carefully watched as it was. This was still a test. Every fucking thing HYDRA did seemed to be a test.

“Soldier,” said Rumlow. Steve nearly jumped at the snap of command in his voice. “Tell us what’s supposed to happen now.”

“I submit to maintenance.”

He couldn’t read anything in the asset’s tone at all. It was just... quiet.

“What are we maintaining?”

“My conditioning.”

“How do we do that?”

“My handlers must routinely demonstrate physical and sexual dominance over me to insure continued compliance and team safety. Desirable behaviors may be reinforced with rewards of physical pleasure. Undesirable behavior may be discouraged by pain.”

“You like being fucked by your handlers?”

The sudden vulgarity jolted Steve out of the pattern of question and response. Did they do this every time or was this part of the show Rumlow had threatened Steve with? He couldn’t take having a front row seat any longer. He shifted antsily, scanning the room for someplace to move to. A piece of wood fell from the arm of the chair he’d crushed earlier.

“Physical pleasure is a frequent consequence of being fucked,” stated the asset.

Rising slowly, Steve took a few steps to the side to stand between the desk the chair had come from and a tall potted plastic fern. They didn’t hide him, but he sorely wished they could.

Rumlow smacked its cock and it hissed in a breath. “Try again, asset. You know what to say.”

“Demonstrating desirable behavior and being rewarded is better than demonstrating undesirable behavior and requiring pain.” The words had the rhythm of something memorized long ago.

“Have you earned a reward today?”

Silence. Rumlow raised his hand again.

“I don’t know,” it said. There was a note of protest in the words and that was almost familiar but it wasn’t _defiance_ and it wasn’t _Bucky_.

He lowered it. “Why not?”

“You’ll tell me if I’ve earned it. I don’t decide.”

“That’s right,” he said. “But you _have_ earned it today. I was gonna let the girls-”

“Women,” one of 'the girls' muttered under her breath with long-suffering dull irritation. Steve stiffened at the reminder that it wasn’t just the three of them in the room.

“ _Women_ , whatever, ride you, but you’ve been a little slow today so I don’t think you’ve earned that.”

No response.

“So you’ve gotta come from being fucked. And what are the rules?”

“I’m not permitted to touch myself or climax without direct permission.”

“Good. Now who are you?”

“Asset. Winter Soldier.” _Not Bucky not Bucky not Bucky it’s not Bucky._

“What are you?” _It’s not. It’s not. It’s not. It’s not._

“HYDRA’s creation. Yours to use, Commander.”

The casual mention of the asset’s HYDRA origins reminded Steve that he wasn’t supposed to know his STRIKE team was HYDRA yet. That was the second time today, he thought. Were they dropping hints deliberately? He hoped they weren’t gearing up to tell him tonight. He didn’t think he’d react the way he was supposed to. Briefly, he imagined Rumlow and Pierce’s faces if he just said, ‘Yeah, okay, I’ll join. _Hail HYDRA_. Thought you'd never ask!’

On second thought, it wasn’t all that funny. His chest hurt. Or maybe just his stomach.

“That’s _right_ ,” said Rumlow. “You are. Now turn over and submit to maintenance.”

And it did.

As the asset repositioned himself _itself itself itself_ on knees and forearms, someone, maybe Rollins, whispered, “Feeling educated, Cap?”

“ _All going to hell_ ,” Steve repeated. “Every last one of us.”

But he made himself keep watching.

 


	18. Chapter 18

Steve really _really_ didn’t want to watch, but he forced himself to pay attention because he knew not all eyes were on the asset and Rumlow. He had to try. He had a mission. There was a plan. He had to try.

The slick must have been applied before Steve joined them because Rumlow just pulled his cock out and pressed the head to the wet and shiny pucker.

“Please,” breathed the asset.

“Please what?” He rubbed his cock against the ring of muscle, pulling back when it gave a little under pressure.

The asset whimpered. “Please, Commander. Make use of me. Remind me why I obey. What I'm made for. Please _ple_ -!”

Rumlow smacked it. It snapped its teeth together, clearly biting back additional pleas, and pressed its face into the bedspread. “ _Fuck_ , asset. Stop at _Commander_ next time. I'm gonna give you what you need. Just looking for a little respect for your handler. No need to get _embarrassing_. You did so good with Cap. Thought you were over begging like that.”

Disordered hair hid the asset’s expression. In spite of the begging and the full erection dangling just above the bed, he seemed more tormented than enthusiastic.

“Please, Commander.” The asset barely lifted his head enough to speak.

“Better,” said Rumlow and pushed straight in.

Steve couldn't watch. Instead, he looked down at his bare feet. Blue and gray patterned laminate. SHIELD sure loved their branding even when they couldn't overtly display their eagle emblem. If the ceiling was that special tile they'd used for the walls of the Retreat, the floor and walls probably were too. This wasn't a guest room. It was a camouflaged holding cell.

A sharp spear of nausea made him swallow hard, stomach lurching. Of course the asset didn't really like this. This was rape. No matter how his body reacted or what he said, he wasn't a willing participant.

Steve was a rapist.

_Don't think about it. Get through this. Don't think about it._

What the fuck had he done? SHIELD-sanctioned operation or not, Steve had raped the asset. _Doesn't matter if it's Bucky._ _It's not Bucky. What have I done?_   Just following orders hadn't been an excuse since after the war. Had _never_ been a real excuse. How had he let this happen?

_Don't think about it. It can't matter now. Don't think about it._

The asset gasped loudly. The bed, which had been creaking rhythmically, screamed in sudden metallic protest. Reluctantly, Steve looked up to see the metal hand was clamped on the edge, bending the mattress up toward the asset.

“Break this bed, Soldier, and no one will touch you like you want it for a month,” snapped Rumlow.

He, it, released the mattress like it burned and yanked the hand back.

The asset's breathing was ragged. _Is everyone here willfully blind or do they_ like _the asset’s distress?_   Steve wouldn't put anything past HYDRA.

“Someone wanna offer it a distraction? Cap?”

Oh _God_ , no. “No. I'm fine,” Steve lied. He was a long way from fine. Fine was somewhere on Asgard with Thor forgetting Steve existed.

“Here, asset.”

One of the women shucked her pants and climbed onto the bed to spread her legs on either side of the asset’s head. As she grabbed fistfuls of dark hair to direct it where she wanted, Steve turned his head away. There was seeing his teammates naked in situations like decontamination or communal showering and then there was… this.

She noticed. "Oh my God," she laughed. "How are you even real, Rogers? Somebody grab me that – _mmm, right there_ – towel over there. Don't want to – _ah! Yes, fuck, just like that_ – offend the Captain’s delicate sensibilities!”

Steve cringed but said nothing as one of the guys tossed her the towel she'd been drying her hair with. She draped it over her hips and the asset’s head. It didn't actually help much not to have the visual. Trying not to hear the sounds from beneath was about as successful as trying not to feel a bent rusty nail in his foot.

“Hey, Cap,” Rumlow said, turning to him. He’d picked up the tempo but didn’t show any signs of being close to finishing. There was barely any strain in his voice. “Had an idea.”

“Yeah?” Steve tried to stay as noncommittal as he could.

“You make up your mind about handling it?”

 _Don't lie._ “Apart from the sex stuff, I'd love to. Can you imagine us in the field together?" _He_ could. Too easily, sometimes. The Winter Soldier was a sniper as well as a supersoldier.

“Then you should be the one to give it its reward. Start making associations between pleasure and obeying you.”

_Don’t think about it. Get through the night. You can’t help anyone if you break here. Don’t think about it. They’re watching you. Don’t think about it._

“Surrender and you will find release,” muttered one of the guys on the other side of the room. Someone else shushed him with what sounded like an elbow.

The asset suddenly went even quieter than it had been before.

Steve wondered what, other than the obvious, the phrase meant.

“Rumlow…” Steve sighed. “I’m…”

“I mean, to give it permission.”

“Oh,” said Steve, dumbly.

“To come,” Rumlow added, just in case Steve hadn't got it yet.

No worries on that account.

"What's the catch?" he asked suspiciously. Rumlow looked far too pleased with his idea.

"If it's not ready and can't obey…”

“What.”

“You prove you're not ready to learn to handle it _and_ we have to punish it for not complying.” He grinned. “But hey, no pressure.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

"Gee, thanks. That’s so appealing now.” But Steve considered it. The risk didn’t seem huge and it would be a step toward being able to handle the asset, which would give him more access to not only the Winter Soldier but also the parts of HYDRA hidden from SHIELD. That was his mission. He just had to not think about the rest of it until he was safe.

“Fine,” he said. “What do I do? Just tell it when?”

“You ever see anyone else come?”

“None of your business,” Steve grit out. Getting off had been something furtive, to be hidden by the dark. Even when he could have looked, it hadn’t seemed polite.

“Sounds like a no to me. Get over here and take a closer look.”

Cautiously, he approached the bed, trying not to see where his teammate’s dick was pistoning into the asset. He could avoid looking but he couldn’t stop hearing.

This close, he couldn’t stop _smelling_. He couldn’t help _feeling_ the heat radiating from the asset.

“Why is it sweating?” The asset was a supersoldier. It didn’t make sense that what they’d done to him _it_ so far, with all the asset’s preparation, should be taking such a physical toll this soon.

Rumlow grunted. “It’s all conditioning. Its body knows it’s had much more intense treatment in the past. That’s why this is just a reminder. Why… why this works. The body remembers. So it…” Strain was clear in his voice now. “So it tries to give us... what we want as soon as possible... so no… reconditioning. Gets itself all worked up out of... proportion with... what we do now.”

There was something really terrible about that explanation but _don’t think about it_ Steve would worry about it later.

“You want... to know more, ask the… damn tech team.” Rumlow groaned and snapped his hips with erratic violence.

The asset made a quiet noise, mostly smothered by the other agent and the towel over its head. She shouted profanities as her legs, crossed over the asset’s shoulders, clenched and shook with her climax.

Steve tried not to look, but that just meant he found himself staring at the asset’s... midsection. He’d tried not to notice too much before, but now he had to pay attention. The asset was circumcised, the head of its cock was engorged and red. Bucky, like Steve, had been uncut. He’d noticed that the first time he’d seen it naked. But adults could be circumcised and he wouldn’t put it past HYDRA to… _It’s not Bucky. Don’t think about it._ Like Steve, it was, size-wise, on the larger end of the spectrum.

There was a definite damp spot where it was dripping precome.

"Looks kinda painful doesn't it,” Rollins commented, coming up behind him. He reached out a hand and smoothed it down the assets spine. It flinched and then arched into the touch. “Not ready yet, though.”

"Stop that," Rumlow complained. “You're… fucking up my… angle.”

Amused, Rollins retorted, "Not like you're about to get it to come on your cock this round, Commander.” But he took his hand off the asset.

Legs wobbling, their female teammate removed herself and her towel from the bed. She leaned in, raised its head by a handful of hair, and kissed it squarely on the lips.

Steve’s stomach churned at the sight. He'd seen plenty of women kiss Bucky but never imagined anything like _this_.

It was someone else who objected. “Do you have to do that every time?"

“Mmm, yes, I do,” she said. “A little affection never hurt anybody.”

That wasn't what it looked like to Steve. Unfortunately, he wasn't in a position to tell her as much.

She dropped the asset’s head. “Right, toy?”

The asset nodded automatically, eyes glazed.

Steve tried not to notice anything else. He already wanted to hit her.

“That’s actually the opposite of what the manual says.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

The asset whimpered. He eyed it but didn't see any sign that it was closer than it had been.

Too many agents with their blood still up and Steve had somehow lost track of them. Was it the _don't think about it_ orgasm? No, he'd been fuzzy before the asset ever got its mouth on him. _Don't think about it_. Post-mission crash? It didn't usually happen to him like that after such a short time, especially when he didn't feel safe. Whatever it was, he felt like he was over it now. _Don't think about it._

A pair of agents started arguing over which of them got to use it next.

 _Say something_ , Steve ordered himself. He'd been too passive so far, he recognized that now. “I thought this was team bonding, not team squabbling.” His voice came out dry as dust but with enough authority that the agents fell silent and stared at him.

The surprised laugh Rumlow gave was cut off by a shout as he finished. “Good to have you back, Rogers. I was starting to worry,” he said, slapping the asset’s ass as he pulled out and shook the last few drops onto its back.

It shuddered.

“Asset. Get over here and clean me up,” Rumlow said. It scrambled to turn around on the bed and obey, taking his softening cock into its mouth and fixing its eyes on his face as it worked. No question that it responded the best to Rumlow as its primary handler. He ran his fingers through its long hair. “Fuck you’re pretty as a girl with all this,” he mused. “Every goddamn time. I could close my eyes and forget what you are. Seemed to work out for Cap.” He grinned. “Speaking of, you sure you don’t want another go at it?”

“I’m sure,” Steve told him. _Don’t think about it. Don’t be sick. Don’t think about it._ “But you’re right. It’s better if I don’t look at its face.”

“It does look like him, doesn’t it?” He injected a note of sympathetic concern now. Steve hated him so much. “Guess it’s been so long since we had to introduce anyone who the face meant anything to that I sort of forgot what a shock it was.”

_Yeah, right._

“So don’t worry about it for tonight,” he continued, the bastard. Steve struggled not to make a fist. If he did, he’d punch him. “Just make sure it gets off when you tell it to and there’s no need for you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

The asset ran its tongue over its lips as Rumlow pulled away. It watched him steadily, waiting for the next order.

Much as he wanted to tell Rumlow to go fuck himself, Steve bit back his response and managed a choked quiet, “Thanks for understanding.” He hated HYDRA so much. Hated himself for thinking he had what it took to get involved with them. Hated himself for what he’d already done. He couldn’t quite believe how totally things had gone to hell. _Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it._

“No problem, Cap.” Rumlow tucked himself back into his sweats. “Rollins, I think it’s all yours. Maybe you can get it there, since I’ve warmed it up for you and all. Asset. Position.” It went back to knees and forearms with its face in the bedspread again. To Steve, he asked, “You paying attention?”


	20. Chapter 20

Rollins didn’t get it there. Neither did the agent after that. The asset’s non-verbal vocalizations grew louder, more desperate, even when its mouth was filled, but Steve didn’t see any indication that it was any closer to coming than it had been. It didn’t make sense.

“Is this normal?” His confidence was starting to wane. Even the weight it was putting on the arm it had burned couldn’t be that much of a distraction. Was he missing something? Did it just not get much from _don’t think about it_ the stimulation it had? He didn’t want to have to touch it again. He’d _don’t think about it_ done enough.

Rumlow shrugged. He’d claimed the armchair with the broken arm. The other agents who had taken their turn _don’t think about it_ had been dismissed to rest. “It’s got great stamina. There are a few things it really likes but it hasn’t earned them today. Better this way than the other. If it came too easily, it wouldn’t be so easy to reinforce that it needs us.”

Steve didn’t say anything.

“What, are you worried? It won’t come without permission. It knows better.”

The asset wasn’t the only one sweating. The whole room seemed both too warm and too cold. This whole day had been so exhausting. Steve stayed on his feet, watching the asset, by pure willpower. He needed about five pizzas and at least a gallon of water and maybe six hours of uninterrupted sleep. Steve wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Got any more tips?” he asked.

“Heh. Wait until it starts begging again. I told it not to talk, but if it’s really desperate, it will start trying to make itself more appealing, even if it has to bend a rule.”

The asset had called him Steve, earlier. Not Captain. _Don’t think about it_. It made sense that that had been a manipulation because _it isn’t Bucky. Don’t think about_ the asset had been taught to pretend it was Bucky. _But nobody knows. I never told anyone. Bucky would have never told anyone. Why would it think that would work? Don’t think about it now it doesn’t have to mean anything don’t think about it don’t. Friends want to help friends, that’s all. Don’t think about anything else. Rumlow should be your friend now. The asset is… don’t think about it._

“Yeah, the asset’s dirty talk is a real mood-killer. We’re not the bad guys who taught it that stuff.”

No, they were just the bad guys who _maintained_ it. _Don’t think about it._

Another agent finished fucking it, coming with a groan as he ground his pelvis against its semen-smeared ass. Steve tore his eyes away, back to staring at the asset’s cock, still hanging heavily just above the bedspread.

He was so grateful not to find himself aroused _don’t think about it_ by its suffering.

The agent pulled out with a wet noise and the asset shuddered, flexing its right hand and burying its face in its metal arm. Its hips jerked. Steve thought he saw its lips move before they were hidden by the curtain of its long hair.

Rumlow excused the agent, who had stumbled back from the bed and seemed about to fall over. They were all starting to crash. “Hurry up,” he told the last two agents. “Sooner we’re done, the better.”

“Such a mess,” sighed one. He spread the asset’s cheeks and stuck some fingers in. They made a squelching noise as he worked them in and out. Come dripped between its legs and onto the bedspread.

Steve swallowed down bile and looked at the asset’s ribs instead. Had Bucky had a freckle there? Would it mean anything if he had? _Don’t think about it. It’s not him. Just do what you have to. Don’t think about it._

“This is going to take forever to clean up. Hey, have we got more lube?”

The other laughed. “Weren’t you just complaining about how messy it is? What the fuck do you want more lube for?” She approached the bed.

Rumlow fished the white tube out of his pocket. “We’ve got some, but we need to keep some in reserve just in case.”

 _In case of what?_ Steve decided he probably didn’t actually want a concrete answer to that.

“It’s not loose enough anyway.” The agent sounded disappointed. That didn’t stop him from replacing his fingers with his cock.

Steve emphatically did not want to know what he’d wanted to do to it. He already wanted to kill everyone in the room. Himself included. A mercy killing for the poor Winter Soldier as well.

He could hear the other agent pull the asset’s head to her and the noises they both made as it started to lick and suck but he managed not to look and no one laughed or said anything about his alleged sensibilities. _Respectful_ , she’d called the asset before. Steve wouldn’t have gone that far, but it was a lot more attentive to her than to the agent in its ass and she wasn’t nearly as rough with it as her teammate had been. He couldn’t hear her pulling its hair. She must have braced herself on the bed instead. The asset certainly seemed to be giving her a good effort.

Bucky had always been good to the girls. A guy willing to do that and not push for more if they weren’t into it earned an attractive reputation with the kind of girls Bucky wanted to go with for more than dancing. Fun, but not quite the sort of girls to scandalize his family. He wasn’t about to lead anyone on or get a gal in trouble. _Word of mouth_ , Bucky had told him one time, with that goddamn fucking grin, and Steve had wanted to kiss it off him and…

The asset made a muffled noise.

Steve blinked and shook his head a little.

_What are you doing? Don’t think about it. Pay attention. It’s not Bucky._

“Soldier! Position!” barked Rumlow, sitting forward in his chair.

The asset’s hips were jerking enough that he _It! It’s not Bucky!_ was just barely touching the bedspread with its erection. In response to the command, it made a noise more like a wail than a whine, like a dog that thought it was being abandoned. It dragged its knees back under its hips.

“It’s not allowed to touch itself,” Rumlow explained, settling back again. “That includes seeking stimulation without permission.”

“Please,” it gasped, the utterance half-lost in the teethed-gritted babble of the agent it was pleasuring and the wet slap of flesh on flesh.

Abruptly, Steve realized he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

“ _Please_ , C...Captain. _Steve_.”

It was Bucky’s voice, a hoarse whisper and on the verge of breaking, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut, found the words, whispered, “Yes, Soldier. Come for me now,” and listened to the asset’s gasps turn to choked off cries as he splattered his release over the SHIELD-gray bedspread.

Thank God. It had been the right moment.

So relieved he was nearly lightheaded with it, Steve dragged in a breath and turned to Rumlow. _Satisfied?_

“Well,” Rumlow said, looking him over, and it was hard to say whether his tone was more approving or disappointed. “At least now we know for sure you weren’t gay for Barnes.”

“It’s nobody’s business,” Steve said, as evenly as he could. If nothing else, this mission was teaching him to keep a lid on his temper. “But we both liked dames.” True enough, though not the whole truth. He was so goddamn tired of lying. He should never have agreed to work with SHIELD after New York. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking when he’d agreed to work with HYDRA.

As if he hadn’t spoken, Rumlow went on needling him. “People have been arguing about it for the last 70 years but you’ve sure been quiet on the subject.”

Mentally exhausted as he was, Steve scraped together the energy to snort derisively. “They mostly wouldn’t give me the time of day before the serum, but I liked them well enough. Bucky loved them.”

Rumlow just looked at him for another long moment. Finally, he said, “Alright, then.” Looking past Steve to the others, he said, “Asset. Standing orders. You two. Finish here and get everything cleaned up. Then get some rest. Be on the quinjet by 0300. Got it?”

“Yes, Commander,” panted the agent still fucking the asset.

“And be quicker next time,” he ordered. “This is the third time you two have had clean up duty in the last year.”

“Yes, Commander,” sighed the woman.

“Come on, Rogers,” Rumlow said to him. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Let’s go find you something to eat. We got a lot to talk about.”


	21. Chapter 21

“You did the best you could, Steve,” Natasha told him. It was about the twentieth time she’d said the words. They didn’t make much more sense to him than they had the first time.

“But I…” He was going to be sick again, he just knew it. His gorge rose and he bent over the ceramic basin but nothing came out.

She pressed herself more fully into his side and rubbed between his neck and shoulder. He was so grateful for her presence.

He’d thrown up everything in his stomach when he’d finally made it home after the mission. He’d barely kept down anything since. As per their established protocols, he hadn’t attempted to contact anyone at SHIELD outside STRIKE for over two days. Then he’d gone to the museum. Most public places had at least one private bathroom. Natasha Romanoff had already been there, sitting on a chair under a cabinet of cleaning supplies. He didn’t bother to ask if anyone had seen her come in. She didn’t ask him anything at all, just got up and hugged him, ignoring his initial flinch.

He told her everything. Almost everything. Enough. She didn’t need to hear every detail now indelibly seared into his brain by the serum.

“It was smart of them to keep you there that long. Whatever the Soldier gave you will be long since metabolized,” she mused. “From what you’ve said, it wore off in less than ten minutes anyway.”

She was right, of course. Not that the realization he’d been drugged when he’d given in was much comfort. But it _did_ explain how disconnected he’d felt and how easily confused and persuaded he’d been.

It didn’t explain how he’d enjoyed it. And even before, in the shower…

God he felt dirty. No, like he _was_ dirt. Scum.

“Steve. They want you to doubt yourself. This is part of their plan for you. You doubt yourself. You doubt SHIELD. You go to Rumlow or Pierce for answers. They sway you to HYDRA, bit by bit. You did the best you could. In this job, sometimes to succeed, you have to fail. A large part of what I do is get caught and questioned. People will reveal a lot about themselves when they believe they have the upper hand. They reveal more when they believe they’ve won. Your job as an intelligence operative is to manage the situation so you survive to share what you learn.”

“I underestimated Rumlow,” Steve admitted. “I forgot that the asset is an enemy operative, not just a victim.”

“You won’t forget the next time,” she told him.

Steve drew in a shaky breath. “No,” he said. “I won’t.”

The Winter Soldier’s life was divided into two areas, like Pierce had said. He’d said _instrument_ and _object_ , but Rumlow had described the division less horribly as Missions and Maintenance. These could be further broken down into four main things a handler had to supervise and assist, to make sure the asset stayed under control.

Missions. Training. Conditioning. Tech.

Missions and training, Steve could _handle_. He didn’t doubt his ability to command the asset in the field. He was almost looking forward to seeing what they could do together. Missions were what would get him through. Training might be tough, but he had an advantage over previous handlers because he was a supersoldier too.

Conditioning was already giving him nightmares. They hadn’t even made him participate in punishing the asset yet. He knew that was coming. Rumlow had said as much. Order through pain and all that. Punishments for himself too eventually, no doubt, because Steve had to draw the line at fucking him. He’d already given in on oral, but that would be as far as he’d let himself go. HYDRA would just have to deal with that. They wanted him? Fine. But that meant he was valuable. It gave him power. They’d have to learn to compromise. Horrible as it was, he’d sooner beat the asset than rape him.

Tech, Rumlow had told him he’d be introduced to sometime in the next month and that the most important thing was to keep everyone calm and try not to react to anything he saw or ask too many questions. He wasn’t sure what to think about that. It didn’t sound very good.

But Steve was committed. And he did want to win enough trust to get the asset alone. To get answers. He wanted to be trusted enough to be able to ask about the Barnes Protocols. To be able to say, “Convince me you’re Bucky Barnes” and finally settle the question. He hated the limbo he was stuck in, unable to fully believe either argument.

He needed to know if he could save Bucky. He needed to know how to save the Winter Soldier.

But those were his own goals. First, he needed to join HYDRA. What a thought. It still made things clench tight and painful in his chest.

“I did the best I could,” he repeated, wincing as he tested the words. He still couldn’t believe them fully. “I haven’t failed.”

“No,” she promised, patting his back. “You’ve actually done really well, Steve. You haven’t lost who you are. You’ve only done what was necessary. They’re hooked. I wish I could say it will get easier, but you’re doing well.”

Steve wiped his mouth and stood up. “HYDRA’s always been arrogant. Even back in the war, they wanted to turn me.”

“And that will be their downfall.”


	22. Chapter 22

The next time he saw the Winter Soldier, he, it, didn’t remember him again.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said. There was an awkward moment when he unthinkingly offered the asset his hand to shake.

A crease formed between its eyebrows. Rumlow rolled his eyes. Steve awkwardly withdrew his hand.

“Steve Rogers,” it repeated. “The Commander called you Cap. You look like Captain America.”

“I _am_ Captain America.” No matter how much he felt like an imposter again these days.

It frowned slightly and looked to Rumlow, who nodded.

“You’ve been introduced before,” he said.

The asset’s frown deepened as its eyes went back to Steve. “I studied you and your friend, James Barnes.”

“That’s right, asset,” Rumlow agreed. “You did.”

It looked confused.

“I was found frozen alive last year,” Steve supplied.

“He’s been working with us ever since, Soldier,” Rumlow added with a satisfied smile.

The asset’s face cleared. It smiled hopefully at Steve. Those smiles were killing him, even when they weren’t the same as Bucky’s smiles. _It’s not Bucky._

“If the Winter Soldier is not to your taste, Captain Rogers,” it said, and this time it _was_ an offer instead of a simple statement of its capabilities, “I could be..”

Steve cut the words off. “Asset. Don’t offer that to me again.” It looked absolutely crushed before its face blanked again and Steve scrambled to soften his order somehow. _Don’t lie if you can avoid it._ “Please don’t,” he said, earning a sharp look of disapproval from Rumlow, “I only just lost him.”

It nodded and dropped its eyes submissively but there was still confusion there.

“You can’t show it weakness like that, Cap,” Rumlow warned him as the team was loading the quinjet. “It _will_ take advantage.”

The asset was already concealed on board with the rest of the equipment since its existence was classified beyond most SHIELD personnel in the Triskelion hanger. Or, more accurately, since SHIELD wasn’t supposed to know it was there. Steve wondered at HYDRA’s audacity, launching their own missions with the Winter Soldier from SHIELD’s DC headquarters with Captain America along for the ride. It was safer to be amazed than angry about that sort of thing while he was working with them.

The mission went perfectly. Steve shadowed Rumlow and the asset the whole time and watched how the experienced handler gave commands. It did seem like something Steve could do. He’d have to start carrying more guns for when they ran missions together. Maybe a _lot_ more guns. Knives too, probably. If the Commandos could only see him now.

On second thought, he was really glad they couldn’t. _Don’t think about it. It’s not Bucky._

All objectives were met. No one was injured. They even finished early and caught a tailwind back which got them to the Triskelion over an hour ahead of schedule.

Steve should have known it was too good to last.

Later, as they were stripping out of their uniforms, Rumlow leaned close to his ear. “You remember that first time in the shower? With the asset?”

“Yes?” Steve wasn’t sure what he was getting at but it made the bottom of his stomach drop out.

“How I was gonna start things off?” Rumlow hinted.

Internally, Steve cursed his serum-enhanced recall and artist’s eye for detail. He’d been trying to forget that since the moment he’d seen the asset’s knees hit the floor. He licked his teeth. “With your hand on its shoulder,” he said reluctantly. “I remember.” Oh hell, was Rumlow going to ask _Steve_ to send the asset to its knees for the team?

_You can’t be passive next time_ , Natasha had told him. She knew what she was talking about. If he let Rumlow or the asset trick or overwhelm him into compliance he’d lose all the authority he had with SHIELD and end up with little more power in HYDRA than the Winter Soldiers. _Show them what they want to see, what their arrogance already leads them to expect._

They’d discussed two possibilities: HYDRA could lull him into a false sense of security with easy missions and a lack of escalation in demands until he convinced himself what he was doing wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought or HYDRA could double down and try to shake him until he broke and agreed to their offer of redemption.

He’d thought they were going for the first option. Easing him in. Maybe they really didn’t think he’d see this as that much worse?

His brain immediately supplied an picture of the asset looking shocked and _don’t think about it_ betrayed and then immediately replaced it with the _don’t_ moment just before _think_ Bucky _about_ lost _it_ his grip.

Steve turned away and tried to think of nothing but how he was breathing. His hands shook a little as he folded his stealth suit. He didn’t think anyone noticed.

The asset took everything off except the mask and goggles. Why? It had removed them at the Lockbox. Actually, that was a question he could legitimately ask. If nothing else, it would buy him some time to get his emotions under control. _Don’t think about it. It’s not Bucky. The asset needs you. SHIELD needs you. Don’t think._

He got a shrug in response. “It was just us at the time,” Rumlow explained. “It won’t remove them by itself if there’s any chance of someone walking in who doesn’t have clearance for its face.”

“What about the arm?” Steve questioned. Most people didn’t recognize _Steve_ when he was out of uniform. Rumlow couldn’t really expect him to believe that they were more worried about people seeing Bucky’s face than the Winter Soldier’s metal arm?

Apparently, he did. “It’s SHIELD. Tech like that is the sort of thing you just try to forget you saw around here. The face might get some gossip started.”

Agents started to file into the communal shower. The asset stood and waited for Rumlow. Maybe for Steve as well. They’d made no secret of Steve’s handler-in-training status. Its hands were at its side and Steve saw it wasn’t quite flaccid.

_Don’t think about it. Do what you have to. Keep control of the situation._

“Should I unmask it?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. He didn’t want to. He wanted to order the asset to help him fight their way out, kill everyone in HYDRA, and then hide somewhere and cry for seventy years.

“Yeah, gonna need access to its mouth even if you don’t want its face,” Rumlow agreed. His smirk was more of a leer. “Handler’s prerogative to go first. Establishes the hierarchy and makes sure you get a turn before it starts looking like the filthy slut it is.”

Steve swallowed. There wasn’t a real choice here. _Don’t think about it. Keep control._ “Got a point about all that long hair,” he said. He couldn’t look at the asset as he said the words.

Rumlow clapped him on the back. His skin crawled. “That’s the spirit, Rogers. No need to be so nervous. You’re not asking a girl in to _see your art collection_ or something. It’s a sure thing. Get used to having it.”

He was right. The asset _was_ a sure thing. That was exactly the problem.

 


	23. Chapter 23

They escorted the Winter Soldier into the showers where they all washed quickly and efficiently. Steve turned away and paid special attention to getting himself clean. There was no getting out of it. Might as well do what he could to make things go more quickly and less unpleasantly. As long as he only focused on the sensation of his own hand on his cock he could almost forget what was coming next.

It was hard to believe that less than two months ago he’d been worried about touching  _himself_  in the presence of the STRIKE team.

_Don’t think about it._

Steve had somehow been under the serious misimpression that the second time wouldn't be as bad. It wasn't. It was worse for knowing what would happen. It was worse for how easy it was to just let things play out.

There was no pretending that the asset hadn't heard every word of his conversation with Rumlow.

It didn't look shocked when Steve pressed a hand to the top of its left shoulder. It didn't look betrayed when its knees hit the floor with the same sound of flesh meeting wet tile that hunted Steve's dreams. It leaned into his hands when he removed the mask, all but rubbing its cheek against his knuckles. Worst of all, it gave him a small smile when he put his hand in its hair and pressed it to his groin. He felt it nuzzle his hardening length with its nose and cheek. It pulled back a little then and Steve's heart just about stopped as it looked up at him with another smile full of the kind of flirty promises that Bucky had never aimed at him.

_It’s not Bucky._

Steve shuddered and looked away. He couldn't do this if it was going to turn that face on him. It wasn't Bucky. The reminder of what he was doing was as good as a bucket of ice water and he could feel himself softening.

Rumlow grabbed the asset by the hair and yanked its head back. "You've been good for us today, asset," he said. "You've earned your reward. But you know what you have to do first. Soldier. What do you say to Captain Rogers?" He released it and it looked up at Steve.

"Please, Captain," it said. It touched his inner thigh with its right hand.  
  
He flinched. The asset dropped its hand to just above his knee, where it had touched him the last time at the Lockbox. "This is really necessary?" He just couldn't stop himself, could he? Then again, his reluctance was real and no one would be surprised he was still having doubts.

But the STRIKE Commander only huffed a brief laugh. "Well, we've been trying to get the asset to  _stop_ the creepy begging, but if you insist…" He gestured toward the asset even though it wasn't looking at him. "Asset. Tell Captain Rogers what you need."

Wide-eyed dismay on those familiar features. "Please, Captain," it began. "My place is to serve and submit. I need to serve your pleasure. I need the reminder I am yours to use, to be freely penetrated by your will. Please allow me to serve my purpose?"

Steve winced and laughed uneasily. "You're right, Rumlow, the begging is creepy."

It turned its head to look between them. "Please put my mouth to better use?"

Rumlow crossed his arms, scowling at it. The asset cringed but didn't drop its hand from Steve's leg. "I'd give it a smack for that sort of cheek, Cap," he said, "but it's learning your preferences so that's up to you."

"I actually think that's less creepy," Steve said. Unfortunately, it was also the sort of thing he could imagine Bucky saying.  _It's not Bucky. Don't think about it._

Rumlow shrugged without uncrossing his arms. “Whatever works. You gonna get us started or not?”

Bad enough he was participating in the sexual abuse. He shouldn’t make the asset  _beg_ for it too, much less learn to beg the way it thought he wanted it to. He didn’t want to fall into the trap HYDRA was offering by letting himself imagine it actually wanted any of this.

The whole room was watching him expectantly.

_Keep it together. Do what you have to do. You have a mission._

He sighed and pulled the asset closer. “Come here, Soldier. I’ll give you what you need.”

It took him into its mouth with what seemed like true eagerness.

Steve closed his eyes and tried not to think about it.


	24. Chapter 24

The next time, it still didn't recognize him without prompting but it regarded him with considerably more pleased astonishment than wary confusion.

“Yes, this is Captain America. Don’t worry about his clearance, asset. He knows what’s under the mask.” Rumlow’s smile was just short of a leer. “You’ve been  _thoroughly_  introduced.”

Steve felt himself flush.

The asset’s eyes went wide and then narrowed as they moved over Steve’s body, assessing in a different way than before.

One day, he was going to discover the cause of the asset’s memory loss. What must it be like? Not remembering virtually any specifics of your personal history and being confronted by a previously assumed dead national icon/enemy of the organization that created you who one of the only people you instinctively listen to suggests you’ve had intimate relations with that you don’t remember?

_Don’t think about it._

“He’ll be your handler on this mission but I’ll be listening in. Either of you have any problems, let me know. I’m happy to advise.”

“Thanks, Rumlow,” Steve said, “but we’ll be fine. The asset is always good for me, right, Soldier?”

It nodded, though Steve knew it didn’t remember one way or the other. As long as it had no reason to doubt, it would go along with whatever was presented to it as normal or expected.

Rumlow side-eyed him as they watched the asset flip through the terrain maps that were part of their mission briefing. “Don’t get cocky, Rogers.”

  


Steve wasn’t the kind to have a love affair with a weapon. Bucky had been in a state of more or less constant despair over Steve’s relative lack of weapons ever since the Howling Commandos' first mission. The shield was less of a weapon and more of a symbol that was an extension of the Captain America role.  _Don’t think about him._  Unlike a lot of guys, Steve just didn’t get attached to the knives or guns he’d carried.

If the Winter Soldier was a weapon, Steve was growing  _very_  attached. As a partner in the field, the asset was like something out of a dream. It was no wonder why HYDRA continued to spend resources on the Winter Soldier program even with only one functional asset. 

Covered almost head to toe in leather and Kevlar, the asset looked nothing like Bucky, moved nothing like Bucky, and certainly didn’t smile like Bucky. Steve could convince himself he was looking at someone else entirely.

And that someone was incredible. 

The asset barely said a word, but it didn’t need to. It had no need for questions. It knew the mission objectives. He couldn’t have pulled the assault off better with the Commandos. Watching it stride across the field of engagement was as exhilarating as the moment the Avengers had come together to defeat Loki. Sure, Steve was giving the orders, but the Winter Soldier controlled the battlefield. It didn’t need his shield for protection. It warded off bullets with its metal arm without so much as a flinch. It was as untouchable as Thor or the Hulk. Inhumanly good, relentless, an unstoppable force.

“Huh,” said Rumlow, coming up behind him as they watched the last wall of the compound collapse into flaming rubble. He eyed Steve in a quick up and down scan. “Turns out you’re just like the rest of us.”

At first, Steve didn’t understand. Then he looked down at himself. “Guess so,” he said weakly. He’d found himself hard after missions before but it hadn’t meant anything.  _Don’t think about it._

Offering him a suggestive smirk, Rumlow said, “Think it’s in our best interest to find someplace more local to hole up for a bit. Let the… heat die down a bit.”

Steve took a breath, inhaling the miasma of a mission done thoroughly. He couldn’t kid himself about what came next. His mission was on track.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.

The STRIKE Commander grinned at him.


	25. Chapter 25

"Hey, Cap," said Rumlow, later, at a safehouse Steve was fairly certain had never been on the books with SHIELD, "you ever been blown by someone while they're being fucked from behind?"

Steve opened his eyes, carefully not looking down. It was bad enough that he could picture it in his head, he shouldn't have actual memories of what Bucky's face would look like distorted by Steve's cock.  _You have a mission. It's not Bucky._  Reluctantly, he observed Rumlow working a couple of fingers into it.

The asset made a noise that went straight to Steve's balls and mashed its face against him.

“So how about it? You ever?"

Ordinarily, that was the kind of information Steve would have taken to his grave. These were special circumstances however, and it wasn't like his teammates really expected he'd say yes. Anyway, it was better if he didn't have to lie. Steve gave Rumlow a look, trying not to notice too much of what he was doing to the asset, and said, dryly, "No, Rumlow. I don't believe I have." And, because he was being honest and because it didn't really help him to come off as a complete ingénue, he added, "I only ever had a threesome with girls before.”

"Cap!" exclaimed one of their teammates, "you can't tell us that!"

”You wish you knew that for your teenage fantasies," laughed one of the others.

Rumlow just raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Rogers, we have  _so_  much to teach you."

“Yeah, Cap, do you even know what a strap on is?” teased one of STRIKE’s ladies.

Steve felt himself blush harder than he would've thought possible while still under the asset’s ministrations. “I have the Internet,” he mumbled.

"One of these days we’ll have to show you how much the asset loves toys,” Rumlow promised, "but today’s lesson is spitroasting.”

He grinned at Steve.

“I can make a guess." He realized he’d stopped moving his own hips and was just holding the asset there while he absently pet its hair. It was softer than it had any right to be.

Rumlow lined himself up.

"That's not much prep,” said Steve. It couldn't have been more than two fingers.

“It doesn't really need it,” Rumlow countered and thrust his hips forward.

The asset cried out, a sound made indistinct by its full mouth, and scrabbled for purchase with its metal hand.

”Yeah, you better find something to hold onto,” he chuckled.

Steve caught the asset’s hand, lacing their fingers and pressing them to the bed as the STRIKE Commander started to move at a brutal pace. He closed his eyes and groaned at the interesting things the transfer of kinetic energy and the asset’s vocalizations were doing to his cock.

”Good, isn't it?” asked Rumlow.

It  _was_  good. He was shocked by how physically good it felt.  _You're trying to fit in here. Don't lie. Use as much truth as you can_. Steve squeezed his eyes tighter shut and nodded, wishing it didn't feel so good.

It couldn't have been very long after that he went over the edge. Some distant part of him was amazed the asset didn't choke. It actually tried to chase him when he withdrew and when it wouldn't let go of his hand, he finally had to look down and see what was going on.

The asset had dropped its head so he couldn't see its face. The other agent had been right. It did learn preferences quickly.

Awkwardly, he told it, “That was really good, Soldier, but you've gotta let go now.”

“Captain, I can’t. Unable to comply,” it rasped.

“What?” Steve asked stupidly.

And then he saw. He lifted their joined hands for a better look.

“What the hell are you doing, Rogers,” demanded Rumlow. He'd slowed some but was still rocking the asset with the force of his thrusts.

Steve raised their hands so Rumlow could see.

Rumlow burst out laughing.

“Wait, what?” demanded one of their observers.

“I’m suddenly concerned for those two women you were talking about, Cap,” snickered another one of their teammates.

Simultaneously, one of the women said, “That is the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen in my entire fucking life.”

Rollins was incredulous. “You broke its hand?”

Steve winced and nodded.

“I didn't know that was  _possible_.”

“Wow, just wow. That's amazing.”

“You okay there, Cap?”

“I didn't even realize I was doing it.” He briefly squeezed the Winter Soldier’s flesh shoulder with his free hand. “Sorry, asset.”

One of the guys said, “Hey, remember that TV program about crazy sex-related injuries?” and suddenly everyone was laughing.

“Tech team won't be happy,” Rollins warned him.

Steve winced again and pasted on a sheepish smile. “Does it hurt, Soldier?”

It shook its head. “Pain means little to me, Captain.”

Steve wasn't quite sure how to take that response. It seemed contradictory.

“So I guess you get to hold its hand for the rest of the night.” Rumlow's smile was mocking.

The asset twisted to look over its shoulder at him.

“Fuck you, Rumlow,” Steve retorted.

“Not if that's how you treat your partners!” snickered Rollins.

“Like I'd touch any of you without the asset.” Rumlow glowered. “Alright ladies. Might be the first time the asset can't be held responsible for damaging its arm on a mission but we really should cut things short and get it to the techs. Flip a coin or something. One of you can have a turn. Just hurry up.”

Things happened quickly after that. Steve ended up holding both of the asset’s hands over its head while it struggled not to it buck up into the STRIKE agent riding it.

“I don't mind if you look, Cap,” she told him as she bounced up and down, though the blush spreading down her neck told a slightly different story.

“It's, it’s not polite,” he stammered.

“It is if we don't mind,” she argued breathlessly. “I don't. How about you, asset.”

It shook its head, teeth gritted against the noises it wanted to make.

“Can it, uh, I mean…” Steve stumbled over the question.

“Yeah, yeah,” she panted, “I've got an IUD, I'm on the pill, and the asset’s last vasectomy was less than a year ago. We're good.” 

Steve looked aside when she gasped and shuddered and stared down at the hands he was holding as the asset whispered, “Please, Captain.”

”Come for us, Soldier,” he whispered back hot with shame at the effect the scene was having on his own body.

“I changed my mind.  _That_  is the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life.”


	26. Chapter 26

The flight home didn't take too long, a fact for which Steve was incredibly grateful. He sat next to the asset, his right hand in its left resting together on Steve's right thigh, and tried to endure the continued ribbing from the rest of the team with good grace. He probably could've pulled free if he'd tried hard enough, but not without doing it further damage. Hurting the asset was the last thing he wanted to do. Actually, he was already doing the last thing he'd ever wanted to do  _don’t think about it_  so the least he could now was try not to hurt it more.

"So how about those women? What did you do to  _them_ , Cap?" Rumlow needled.

Steve ducked his head in barely-exaggerated embarrassment. Like it or not, Steve needed to make his own contributions to the team's growing intimacy. He had to convince them he was one of them, that he'd be willing to consider HYDRA. Steve admitted, "I turned the headboard into splintered firewood and the girls both ended up too sore and bruised to perform the next day.”

"Oh, I bet they were…"

"To perform in the USO show!" he clarified, neck and ears heating to match his face.

He wondered what the asset felt about being forced to hold his hand like this. He flexed his fingers against unresponsive metal. Was it in pain? Was it afraid he'd hurt or damage it again? Could it take any comfort in a human touch? Would it be wary of him again the next time he saw it? The thought ached.  _It’s not Bucky._  He didn't want the asset afraid of him. He could imagine it was a twin now and keep them mostly separate as long as he didn't see its face. The instant it made a familiar expression, Steve's every instinct screamed that he was looking at Bucky.  _Don’t think about it._  He hadn't slipped as much this time.

Honestly, he wasn't quite sure what to think about that. Was it a good sign that he was adapting to a way of thinking about the Winter Soldier that made working with it easier? Did it mean he was letting the campaign of dehumanization get to him? Steve didn't want to become the role he was performing.

He would always remember performing for the troops in Europe after doing the show stateside for months. The shock of realizing he'd let himself get almost comfortable with the role he'd been forced into.

He'd never wanted to be that person.

 _Don’t think about it. Focus on your present mission. It only_ feels  _like failure._

“Hey. Rogers. Cap. You still with us?”

Steve blinked and raised his head to find Rumlow frowning at him. Most of the rest except Rollins had drifted toward the other end of the jet and were talking quietly.  _Fuck._  He'd missed something.

“Yeah,” he said, “mostly.”  _Don't lie._  “Guess I'm more tired than I thought.”

If Rumlow's concern was fake, he deserved an award for his acting. “You sleeping okay?”

_Liars and killers, all of us. That’s the job, Steve. Accept that before someone can use it to break you._

No, Steve wasn't. He hadn't been even before he'd agreed to try to worm his way into HYDRA, but the stress of being a spy was getting to him.  _Don't lie._  “No, but that's nothing new.” He mustered a shrug, slightly awkward while holding the asset’s hand, and summoned a rueful smile. “Goes with the territory. I'm fine.” He lifted the Winter Soldier’s hand again. “Besides, it's not like I can bow out early.”

Rollins chuckled while Rumlow just smirked and shook his head.

“Yeah, that hand needs looking at soon as we get back,” agreed Rumlow.

“You'll need that sense of humor with the tech team,” Rollins warned him. “Seen any of the Bond movies?”

Natasha,  _no, Romanoff,_  had told him not to bother with them.  _A couple Wikipedia pages and some YouTube clips will tell you all you need to know_ , she'd said. “I saw Skyfall,” Steve said. “I don't get the obsession. Or the relevance.”

“Q hates when field agents like Bond don't bring their toys back in good shape,” Rollins told him. “Now think about what the Winter Soldier’s tech team will think about avoidable damage that wasn't even mission-related.”

While Steve was considering that, Rumlow added, “And think about how part of their job is to give the asset something familiar, HYDRA-style.”

“Meaning what?” Steve demanded. It wasn't likely that they'd forgotten he didn't know about HYDRA yet.

Both STRIKE agents shifted to look at the asset. Steve wasn't sure why. As far as he could tell, it hadn't deviated from sitting quietly next to him with its head down. No knowing what was going on behind the mask but Steve hadn't noticed any cause for alarm.

"It gets confused sometimes. Right, Soldier? You know you do," said Rumlow. It was the sort of tone used to soothe animals or persuade small children. He leaned toward it, keeping his voice low.

The asset nodded.

"You confused now?"

It shook its head, but slowly, as if uncertain.

"What are you?"

"HYDRA's creation. Yours to use, Commander." It hesitated. "...Captain."

"How many handlers you got, asset?" Rumlow asked.

"...You, Commander. Captain Rogers. The... Secretary?"

Rumlow nodded and sat back. "Look at you, remembering without additional prompting."

The Winter Soldier shifted like it wasn't sure how or if it should interpret Rumlow's words.

Steve wanted to know too. "That's...good?" he ventured. He looked to Rumlow for confirmation but Rumlow shook his head.

"Asset. Who do we work for?"

Steve heard it swallow. "The Secretary?" it tried.

"Nice try," said Rumlow, "But you know better. What organization are we with, asset?"

"...HYDRA?" it suggested.

Alarmed and disturbed, Steve turned to stare at it. He couldn't read anything under the mask. The asset  _must_ have been briefed. What were they playing at?

Rumlow sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, confused. They’ll need the chair.”

The asset went stiff and dropped its head again. There wasn't even the slightest tug at Steve's hand.

“It's for its own good. You'll see, Cap," he said.

Rollins rubbed at his forehead. “They’ll have to remove Rogers first,” he said to Rumlow. “However annoyed they are, I don't think anyone will seriously want him electrocuted."

“Electrocuted?” Steve repeated.  _Fry them_ , Rumlow had said once about the Winter Soldiers. He'd dodged Steve’s question then too. “What’s the chair for?”

Rumlow and Rollins exchanged looks.

“The chair helps it focus and keeps it restrained during maintenance,” Rumlow told him. “Try not to worry about it, Cap. Jack’s just messing with you. Listen to the techs and you'll both be fine.”


	27. Chapter 27

Fine was a relative term but it wasn’t what Steve had been led to believe. Not that night.

The tech team met them on the outskirts of the city, which Steve supposed was a good way to keep him away from HYDRA before his coworkers deemed him ready. Steve didn't know the location and didn't try too hard to work it out. He was building trust and the setup was clearly temporary. Asking too many questions here wasn't worth the risk.

The asset’s tech team, those present at least, consisted of a trio of middle aged white men in bowties and oddly short white lab coats. They had a mobile lab in a truck which they drove into the warehouse/hangar where the STRIKE quintet landed.

“Here’s a real test for you, Cap,” said Rumlow. He nodded in the direction of the truck's open rear doors. “Let’s see if you can get the asset to sit in the maintenance chair.”

There was nothing especially terrifying about the chair at first glance. Yes, it was equipped with restraints. Yes, an alarming number and variety of cables trailed from it, bundled up like there was a lot of equipment missing. Yes, there was a disturbing metal halo like a broken embroidery hoop hanging over the back of it, but, as Steve said, “Come on, asset,” and tried to take a few steps in the chair’s direction, it was the  _smell_  that set off his own danger instincts.

Under the scent of disinfectant he caught the sourness of old sweat and the pungent reek of other bodily fluids.

_Don’t think about it. Do your job. Live your role. They need to think they’re winning. Do what you have to do._

Steve found himself rooted to the spot. The asset trailed behind him and stopped as soon as he did, forcing Steve to stretch his arm back behind him.

“Is something the matter, Captain Rogers?” asked the tech in charge. Rumlow had called him Baker. His tone was mild but there was a tension in the tech team as their attention moved between Steve and the asset as though they weren’t sure which might be the greater threat.

“I think I understand the asset’s reluctance,” Steve commented. He turned to stand in front of the asset, lifting his free hand and setting it on the asset’s right shoulder. “You know I’ve got enhanced senses, right, Soldier?”

The asset nodded without looking him in the face, it’s face angled down so its features were mostly screened by its hair.

“I don’t like the thing any more than you do,” Steve went on.

“Captain Rogers!” protested the other tech.

Steve turned his head.

The man took a step back.

“You’re not being irrational,” Steve assured the asset. “It looks scary and we’re the only ones here who understand what a nightmare it  _smells_ like.”

Pulse a little faster, the asset stared down at the poured concrete floor.

“But, Soldier,” Steve said, “I’ve seen you walk into automatic weapons fire without a flinch. I know you can overcome fear. Pain means little to you.”  _Do what you have to do. Live your role. What did Rumlow tell you?_  “The tech team’s job is to take care of you. I know you can make rational decisions for yourself if you have the information. You do it all the time in the field. But sometimes what we know isn’t rational or we don’t have the information necessary to make a good choice. You trust me to help you and to make good decisions for you. I trust you to comply.” Aware of all the eyes on him, Steve took a deep breath, dropped his hand from its shoulder, and turned back to the closest member of the tech team. “Is the chair absolutely necessary?”

Without any hesitation, Baker said, “Yes, Captain Rogers.”

“Why?” asked Steve.

“For the safety of everyone involved, including the Winter Soldier,” he answered. “The asset has a history of lashing out at perceived threats and we can’t have it making sudden motions while we’re working on it. Our work can be delicate.”

“Okay,” said Steve.  _Don’t think about it._ “Do you have another chair or a stool or anything so I can sit next to it?”

The guy nodded. “We’ll stack a couple equipment crates for you to sit on.”

“Good,” Steve said, and shifted his focus back to the soldier. “So,” he told it, “I’m going to make a decision here. We’re going to sit down and let the tech team do their jobs. You’re going to sit in the maintenance chair and I’m going to sit next to you.”

The asset nodded and Steve’s tugged it forward again. He hadn’t led anyone by the hand since…  _Don’t think about it._

For all its initial reluctance, it sat in the chair as soon as they reached it and put its arms on the arms of the chair for the restraints. As Steve sat on the makeshift stool, he felt the tension level of the room drop. A few people released audible sighs of relief.

Steve patted both their hands with his free left and said, “See, Soldier? Easy! Well done!” He gave it a bright smile.

Bucky’s face shifted toward him, stony gaze skittering over Steve’s smile before he  _It! It’s not Bucky!_  turned away.

Steve sighed. He hoped he hadn’t just destroyed their growing rapport.

Rumlow climbed into the truck and patted Steve on the shoulder. “ _Well done_ , Rogers,” he said with a smile of his own. “The tech team’s mostly in charge from here.”

Steve hated the small measure of pride and relief Rumlow’s words evoked.  _Don’t think about it. It’s not Bucky. The best thing you can do for the asset is make sure it complies and that you don’t make HYDRA suspicious. This only feels like failure._

“Thanks,” he said and tried to return the smile, though he was sure it came out closer to a grimace.

Rumlow hopped back out and closed the doors.

Steve’s enhanced hearing picked out one of the STRIKE guys saying, “Holy shit, Commander. I feel like we should take a picture or something” and Rumlow’s satisfied reply, “Hard to imagine, yeah.” His voice went cold and increasingly faint as he walked away. “Now remember they’re  _both_ enhanced and shut your fucking mouth.”


	28. Chapter 28

The Winter Soldier sat with its body relaxed into the chair but its head up, staring into space. The same expression had been on Bucky’s face when Steve had found him on Zola’s table in the lab in Austria.

Like a siren just out of sight, Steve’s dread came screaming back.

Whatever the asset had experienced in the chair or with the tech team was enough to make it retreat into its own mind. Did the asset even have a serial number? Maybe not. He wondered what it had instead of name, rank, serial.  _Don’t think about it._

Despite all the buildup of dread and drama, the rest of Steve's introduction to the tech team went very anticlimactically.

"This is crush damage," said the second tech, the slender one, leaning over the supersoldiers' joined hands. He directed his observation toward the other techs, not Steve or the asset.

The asset was doing its best to not be present for the experience. Steve didn't have the heart to try to call it back.

"I haven't seen anything like this…" The tech trailed off, glancing over at Rumlow as he rejoined them. Rumlow was supposed to be supervising Steve's interactions with the asset, after all. Steve was new to all of this and right now he was keenly aware of both his inexperience and the way everyone was speaking over him.

Not that he was in any hurry to try to explain himself.

Rumlow snorted. “Since the last time we let the other Winter Soldiers out to play with it?" He shook his head in false wonder. "Well, what d’ya know. Turns out we got another one here who doesn't know how to have fun without breaking shit."

Steve's ears were burning. He wanted to hide his face. He would've tucked his face into the asset’s shoulder but the asset wasn't Bucky. And he’d just been reminded that he’d hurt it, though it hadn't actually said so. "Sorry," he said quietly.

The tech looked down at their hands and then scrutinized Steve carefully. “Precisely how did the damage occur, Captain Rogers?" he asked.

If Steve could have spontaneously combusted with shame and embarrassment, now would've been the time.

"I…," he began and had to stop and clear his throat. Oh God, he suddenly realized, this probably had to go in their report.  _Don’t think about it. They need to think they’re winning. This is how you get accepted by the team and HYDRA. Don’t think about it._

The tech persisted. "It's not common practice to hold hands with the asset," he pressed.

Steve bit the side of his lower lip. He really really didn't want to have to say it.

The third tech had been quiet and mostly running around setting things up till then. Now he came over and said, "Look, we know STRIKE is full of idiots. We've heard stories. What were you doing? Arm wrestling? Because we don't recommend that with the asset’s cybernetic limb. It doesn’t heal the way the bio arm does."

Steve cringed. "Not... arm wrestling,” he admitted haltingly.

"Of course not," agreed Baker. "If they'd been arm wrestling, they'd be attached by both their left arms."

"For fuck’s sake, Rogers," said Rumlow. "You can tell them or I will.” He laughed. “You’ll never live it down so you might as well own it.”

Steve looks down at his knees and  _don’t think about it_ mumbled, "Accidentally crushed it while the asset was... performingoralsexonme."  _Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it._

"I'm sorry," said the tech. He sounded an odd mixture of horrified and delighted. "Could you repeat that?"

"I… accidentally crushed the asset’s hand," Steve said. He struggled to form the rest of the sentence.

Tech number three continued it for him. "While it was…" He started to snicker.

The other two looked at Rumlow questioningly. He nodded smugly.

"And he's been holding its hand sweetly ever since," Rollins called into the truck followed by another burst of laughter from outside.

Steve cringed even further back into his seat and wished he could check out like the asset.

Finally, when the laughing was done Baker patted Steve on the knee and said, "We don't get a lot of laughs in this job. That was almost funny enough to be worth the extra work. Don't worry, Captain. Just hold still and we’ll have you free in a moment.”

Steve nodded weakly. "Thanks." He couldn't look anyone in the face.  _Don’t think about it._ He stared at their intertwined fingers instead.

It was a bit more than a minute. Rumlow came back after five and leaned against the side of the truck with his arms crossed as he watched.

“Does that hurt it?” Steve asked, reluctantly interested in what they were doing which involved connecting the asset’s arm to a small computer and slipping small tools into the grooves of its immobile fingers. Some of the tools had very hot tips while others seemed to just be wedges to be tapped with a mallet.

“The asset receives sensory feedback from its hand but it’s not pain the way you or I perceive it.” Baker dug a tool into a groove near the knuckle of the asset’s ring finger.

Metal groaned. The asset’s other hand twitched and curled into a fist.

The techs stopped for a moment and checked the restraints. Once the asset flattened its hand again, they resumed work. Just how afraid of it were they?

“You sure?” Steve asked again.

“Oh yeah. It doesn’t start to receive pain signals from the arm until you get to the shoulder region about here.” The thin one tapped the asset’s shoulder about an inch above the red star. “That’s where the asset’s real nerves start to interface with our technology. Below that is just information.”

A minute or two later, Baker said, “That should do it. Asset.”

Back from wherever its mind had gone, it blinked and shifted its head to look somewhere in the tech’s direction.

“Open your left hand,” he ordered.

There was a metallic grating noise and the asset grimaced. Jerkily, it opened its hand. Not all the fingers unbent.

Steve removed his hand and flexed his own fingers. His palm had begun to cramp from maintaining one position. He rubbed at it with his other thumb.

“That’s done it,” said Baker. He nodded at the other two. “We’ll take it from here.”

The asset pressed its back into the maintenance chair and stared into space again.

Standing up, Steve patted it on the shoulder carefully. “Well done, Soldier.”

“You need me or Rogers to stay?” Rumlow questioned.

Baker eyed the asset retrained in the chair and shook his head. “Just long enough for us to sedate it for transport, Commander.”

“Alright,” Rumlow agreed. “Hey, Rogers.”

“Yeah?” Steve responded.

“Order it to close its eyes. It doesn’t like injections.”

Neither did Steve. Or Bucky. _It’s not him. Don’t think about him._

“Asset,” Steve said.

It swiveled its head to somewhere in the vicinity of Steve’s shoulders. Somehow that was even worse than when he’d been looking into Bucky’s eyes in the asset’s face.  _Don’t think about it._

“Close your eyes and comply with the tech team,” Steve commanded it.

Its too-familiar blue eyes flicked up to his face for just a moment before they closed and turned away. The Winter Soldier very deliberately relaxed into the chair in a way which told Steve it really wasn't relaxed at all.  _It’s not Bucky. Don’t think about it._

There was an IV just waiting to be attached and it was evident the tech team was highly practiced. The asset’s breathing slowed and evened out. Tech number three checked the readout and gave the handlers a thumbs up.

“Good Soldier,” Steve said. It hadn’t taken him long to learn that no one ever said goodbye to the asset.

Rumlow gave him an approving nod and tipped his head in the direction of the doors.

Steve jumped lightly from the truck.

“We’ll take the quinjet back to the Triskelion,” Rumlow said. He lowered his voice. “You okay?”

 _Don't lie._   _Everything is a test._ Steve exhaled slowly and breathed in equally slowly. “Yeah,” he said. The way people (namely Rollins) had talked about the tech team, he’d expected to end up standing by for torture. They hadn’t even seemed angry. “That wasn’t as bad as the picture I had in my head.”

“Good,” said Rumlow.

They boarded the quinjet.


	29. Chapter 29

The first time after the hand incident, the asset dropped for him in the showers so quickly Steve was sure it must have hurt itself.

Guilt and shame ate at him and his heart broke into even more pieces than it had already been in to realize the Winter Soldier had flinched when he reached for its prosthetic. His hand hadn’t even made full contact with the metal plating when its knees went crashing to the wet floor.

Hair screened its face but he could see the frown curving its lips. It was probably confused by its reaction when it had been nothing but unrestrainedly eager for his attention since it had been introduced to him again the night before.

Steve wished _he_ could forget the reason as well, but he deserved all the guilt that plagued him.

Even so, the asset pressed its face to Steve’s cock and nuzzled and begged until he let it take him in its mouth. He hardened quickly for it and didn’t try to fight his body’s reaction this time except to check the motion of his hips so it didn’t choke. This time, he had a slightly better sense of when he was close and, highly conscious of the harm he’d caused it last time, he managed to squeeze a handful of its hair without actually doing it any real damage. Bucky’s face smiled up at him after, the moment of fear either overcome or forgotten. Steve felt sick.  _It’s not Bucky. Don’t think about it._ He praised it but did his best to avoid its eyes. He pet its hair instead. It seemed to like that.

Once he got his breath back, he gave it a gentle nudge in Rumlow’s direction. It looked disappointed.

 

The time after that was just Steve, Rumlow, and Rollins in an empty penthouse apartment in Mumbai watching the asset on an adjacent rooftop for a day and a half. Steve gave the confirmation of the kill order and prayed the mission served SHIELD interest and not just HYDRA.

“We don’t have the whole team here,” Rumlow pointed out once the three of them had had a turn with it and it still hadn’t come. The four of them were sprawled on an enormous bed which seemed to be the main feature of this safehouse. Steve was fairly sure this had to be one of HYDRA’s. He’d seen cuffs and leather straps with buckles tucked under the edges of the bed and was just glad neither STRIKE agent had suggested they use them. If the place belonged to SHIELD, he’d prefer not to know. “You’re the only one who hasn’t fucked its ass today, Cap. Isn’t it about time?”

Steve grimaced and the asset’s whole body sagged. It kept its face still carefully turned away from Steve.

“Please, Captain,” it said hoarsely.

Steve reached out and ran a hand down its back. It arched into the touch and pressed its ass against his trailing fingers.

“No,” Steve said firmly. “I’m not going to do that.”

Flushed with exertion, arousal, and frustration, the asset looked even more disappointed than Rumlow and Rollins.

“Please,” it repeated. “Steve.  _Please_.”

Steve flinched.  _It’s not Bucky. Don’t think about it. Do what you have to._

But he couldn’t take it.

“Don’t call me that anymore,” he ordered.

The asset whimpered.

Steve took pity on it. “Turn over on your back, asset.”

It did. Steve jerked it off until its entire body arched and spasmed. As its breathing stuttered, he experienced a horrifying desire to lean over and kiss the weeping tip of its cock. He resisted, shocked and disgusted at himself. “Come, asset,” he commanded instead and the asset came over his hand onto its stomach barely a second later.

“Thank you, Captain,” it sighed as it settled bonelessly into the bed.

_Don’t think about it. It doesn’t matter if it looks like it's enjoying itself. It can’t say no. Don’t think about it._

“Good Soldier,” Steve whispered. He tried to ignore the fact that he was half-hard again himself. Fuck, he was disgusting.  _Deal with it later. Focus on your mission. Don’t think about it._

He got up to wash his hands and get a towel. By the time he came back, Rollins was mostly dressed and Rumlow had the asset’s head in his lap, having it suck its own ejaculate from his fingers. The STRIKE Commander smirked and held up his spit-cleaned hand for the dampened towel Steve was holding.

Steve hit him in the face with it. Accidentally, of course. Really. Rollins laughed at both of them. The asset smiled one of its small smiles. It looked nothing like Bucky. Really.

The asset was still smiling at him this time as he ordered it to sit in the maintenance chair in the truck and Steve felt an absurd urge to kiss it on the forehead like he was tucking it in.

The whole STRIKE team was a little sweet on the asset, he reminded himself as he followed Rumlow out and hid his shaking hands in his pockets. It didn’t mean anything. He was fitting in. That was all.


	30. Chapter 30

One of the things Steve appreciated most about Natasha was the way she never looked horrified. Shocked sometimes, though more often than not that was an act. Or maybe she was shocked, but covered it and put on the appearance of being shocked so it seemed like an act. Maybe it was the same with all the emotions she expressed. Thinking too carefully about about the things Natasha did and why was fruitless and only gave Steve a headache. His time could be spent more productively on tasks like trying to determine if there was any real chance the Winter Soldier had ever been Bucky Barnes.

"I’d be more surprised if you  _didn't_ have conflicting feelings about the asset. Do you feel like you’re having more or less difficulty compartmentalizing now than you were?" she asked him.

They were in a different museum this time. Steve had taken to making an effort to pursue his interests outside SHIELD/HYDRA by visiting DC's many art museums. There were well over a dozen, including private and university collections. Steve had seen seven so far. He was, he supposed, showing them what they expected to see. Sometimes looking at the art helped. Sometimes things got snarled up in his brain and he had to take a break. He'd made hiding himself away in places like this a habit, if not quite a routine.

"What would you have done if someone else had come in?" he asked her. Not that she looked like herself. If he hadn’t expected her like this, he would have apologized and closed the door again.

She just smiled at him like he should've known better than to ask.

"Yeah, okay, don't tell me," Steve said.

"Are you avoiding answering my question, Steve?" she asked. There was no getting around Natasha Romanoff.

Instead of answering that, because, well, it was obvious she only asked to bring to his attention the fact that she knew what he was doing and wanted him to know that she knew, he stopped avoiding her original question.

"I don't know," he said. "I worry that I'm falling too much into my role. Before I couldn't stop thinking about everything I had to do deliberately for my mission and how I was always surrounded by enemies. And now…sometimes, it's like I forget. I didn't get sick after this last time." He couldn't find better words to explain but Natasha nodded like it all made perfect sense to her. It probably did.

"Steve," she said.

He liked it when she called him by first name. The only other person who ever called him by first name was the asset and it only did that as a manipulation.

"I realize this is frightening for you."

Steve had learned not to argue with anything Natasha called frightening. She was right. She was usually right.

"Yeah," he said, putting his hands in his pockets and looking down, ducking his head. "I feel like I'm not just losing myself, I'm losing sight of what I know to be right."

"That's a reasonable fear," she said simply, which is both exactly what Steve needed to hear and exactly what he hadn't  _wanted_ to hear. "Right now, you're being a version of yourself you never imagined and can't reconcile. It's a terrible thing we've asked of you, Steve, and you're not trained for it. Maybe you feel there must be something wrong with you that you’re doing so well. You feel compromised because you _have to be_ in order to be to be successful.”

 _Compromised_  was such a deceptively clean word for how dirty Steve felt.

"Yeah," Steve sighed, trying to believe it. "I just, I don't want to forget, even for a moment that the things I do with STRIKE, that I'm doing to the asset, are wrong."

Natasha had a way of making her entire expression look liquid and open. Earnest. Trustworthy. It was another deliberate choice Natasha made about what she showed to people but Steve wanted it to be real underneath. He had to trust in  _someone’s_ intentions.

"I know," she said, laying a hand on his arm and looking up at him with those liquid eyes. "But this mission won't last forever, Steve. And when it's over? It will be hard but there are people, including me and Clint, who can help you get your head straight again. Don’t try to sort things out on your own. It's okay to just let yourself fall into their patterns for now, to think like they do. You know you're there to serve a different cause. Motivation matters."

"Do you really believe that?" Steve asked.

She smiled at him again, stood up and gave him a hug.

He hugged her back automatically.

"Sometimes," she said, without letting go, "I think it's the only thing that does matter. No matter how much of it is HYDRA, I thought I was going straight when I joined SHIELD. That matters.” She waited while he absorbed that. It was unusually open of her, though he knew she'd chosen her words and delivery to get the result she wanted. “Stop for dinner on the way home," she said, releasing him. "You've lost weight."

Reluctantly, Steve opened his arms and let her step back. "Okay. Thanks, Natasha," he said. "I will."

Steve flushed the toilet and washed his hands. They couldn't be careless about the fiction they maintained.

"Take care of yourself, Steve," she said.

“You too,” he said and left the bathroom.


	31. Chapter 31

“Anyone else seeing this? There’s some sort of purple fog coming through the air filtration system.”

“Shit, are you still in sector B, Cap?” Came Rumlow’s voice. It seemed very loud in Steve’s ears.

Stopping at a corner, Steve signaled the asset to halt. “Yes, I am. The asset’s with me.”

Rumlow cursed. “We found out what happened to the lab staff.”

“Which means what?” Steve demanded.

“Uh…”

“Airborne aphrodisiac,” Rollins reported, voice curt. “Looks like there's something in it to lower inhibitions as well.”

There was a silence.

“Are you--” Steve began.

“The two of you are sealed into the contaminated section of the building. No sign of anyone else.  _Don't_ let the asset take its--”

He turned to look at it. “Mask off?” Steve finished dryly. It fixed him with a pleading expression of earnest desperation. “Too late. Now what?”

The silence was loud in his ears. The asset dropped its mask on the floor.

“You either get over yourself and fuck it,” said Rumlow, “or risk stressing your bodies to the point you die of dehydration and exhaustion.”

The asset stepped in and began to lower itself to the floor as it reached for his belt.

“No,” he snapped, catching its wrist. He pushed it away a few feet. “We’re not doing this. We’re supersoldiers. We’ll tough this out. It’ll be unpleasant, but we’ll survive. We are  _not having sex_.”

“Won't work, Rogers,” Rumlow delivered the news. “From what we can determine, Dr. Mainquist set this up deliberately to catch a couple of interns who rejected him. The delivery system is tied to the main computers, including security. It calculated dosage based on SHIELD records. Your resistance might be higher than the asset’s, but you  _will_  be affected.”

Steve let out a heavy breath. “Damn it. Let us know when we’re close to extraction. Cap out.” He turned off his outgoing comms. The last thing he wanted right now was for the rest of the team to listen in on what was sure to be a very uncomfortable few hours. He didn’t care what anyone said. Sex was not happening here.

“Barnes called you ‘punk’,” said the asset. Steve was momentarily speechless. Was this evidence the asset was Bucky? Or would HYDRA be able to explain this as well as the tech team had explained the scar on the bottom of its right foot. Bucky had stepped on a nail a year or so after they'd moved in together. While the other techs had cleaned tar from the asset's arm, Baker had shown Steve the photographs from Zola's experiments that had been used as references for perfecting the asset.

The Winter Soldier looked Steve up and down with clear speculation. “Do you prefer to catch?”

“How do you know what Bucky used to call me?” Steve demanded.

A furrow appeared between its eyebrows. Obviously baffled, the asset said, “My education regarding Barnes was very thorough.”

Damn HYDRA for giving it explanations for everything. Explanations which explained nothing.

Steve’s face must have been descriptive enough. The asset turned its eyes away to the middle distance. “You've never fucked me,” it stated plainly, but with an element of despair. Whatever it was that lowered inhibitions was evidently working really well or else it was using it as an excuse. When Steve still didn’t say anything (because, really, what could he possibly say to that?), it said, “I don’t understand why you won’t use me like the others. I’d be so good for you if you let me. Handlers are supposed to fuck me. It helps me remember who to obey.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve hissed, glaring up at the ceiling vents. They were too small for either of them to get into but too big and numerous to effectively cover.

“Please,” said the asset, eager to misunderstand.

“ _No_ , damn it,” Steve snapped.

It curled in on itself, but kept its hands away from either of their bodies.

“Can you touch yourself if I give you permission?” Steve asked.

The purple mist had stopped coming in, but that seemed ominous more than anything.

“Not...unless… you supervise…” the asset panted, “and give me… instructions… to obey.”

Great, so even that was out unless he watched. “FUBAR,” he sighed to himself, mopping his forehead with almost zero effect. “Totally FUBAR.” Or maybe not. This had HYDRA written all over it.

The asset whimpered. It was panting even more than Steve realized he was. “ _Please_.”

Steve couldn’t respond. He hadn’t been this aware of his heart and respiration since right after he’d got out of Howard’s machine and thinking of Howard now brought up all his mixed emotions regarding the asset.

“Captain,” it breathed. “Captain,  _please_.”

Was it really that much more affected or was it playing it up to trick him into this?

“No,” he said. “We’ll tough it out.”


	32. Flashback interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now interrupt your regularly scheduled trash to bring you pre-war acknowledged mutual pining. And other things.

Bucky didn’t come home after his late shift. Steve shivered under all their piled blankets and hoped he’d been diverted by a pretty girl or something harmless.

But he didn’t think so. Bucky hadn’t wanted to leave him that morning, not the way Steve’s cough was starting to sound. They were just barely going to be able to cover the rent as it was after the nail that had gone through both Bucky’s shoe and his foot. He was damn lucky not to get lockjaw. They didn’t have the money for Steve to get sick again.

If Steve went looking for him in this weather, Bucky would kill him for sure if the cold didn’t.

So Steve fell into a fitful sleep until he heard the keys in the lock. He cracked one eye open and looked in the direction of the door without getting up. He couldn’t afford to lose the body heat trapped by the blankets.

Bucky closed the door. He turned and locked it. He didn’t turn around again. Instead, he rested his forehead against the door.

Steve opened both eyes. There was just enough dim amber light from the street for him to see that Bucky was shivering.

Dread stole the little sense of warmth the blankets held. “Hey, Buck,” Steve whispered. Something was very wrong.

At the sound of Steve’s voice, Bucky startled and turned.

Steve scrambled upright. “Jesus Christ, Bucky. What the hell happened?”

He looked like he’d either had a very good night or a very bad one. The former wasn’t likely. Not when Steve was sick. Steve caught a whiff of alcohol through his stuffy nose, something strong. Bucky’s complexion was strangely blotchy, too pale and too dark in the wrong places. His face looked swollen, like he’d been with a girl the way they liked and then hit in the face. He wasn’t standing straight, slightly curled in on himself. Definitely not a good night. When he took a step away from the door, Steve noticed he was holding himself awkwardly, like he was in pain, and not from his foot. “It’s nothin’, Steve,” Bucky rasped, shockingly hoarse. “Get back under the goddamn blankets. Don’t worry about me.”

“But what  _happened_?” Steve demanded. He couldn’t care about the frigid air infiltrating the layers of flannel he was wearing when Bucky came home looking like  _that._

The noise Bucky made started like something close to a laugh but it really wasn’t one and wrapped his arms around his middle without even shedding his hat or winter gloves. He shrank down into the collar of his jacket. “Nothin’ I didn’t ask for,” he said and Steve  _knew_.

“ _No_ ,” he said. “Bucky.  _Bucky_ , tell me you didn’t.” Bucky had kidded him about it before but Steve hadn’t ever seriously considered he might actually try it.

Bucky closed his eyes and made that painful not-laugh noise again. “It’s okay, Steve. Go back to sleep.”

“Like hell!” Steve snapped at him. “Are ya hurt? You look hurt. What were you thinkin’?”

He saw the shadow of Bucky’s adam’s apple move. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he sounded like maybe he was mildly annoyed.

Steve wanted him to be furious.

Steve was furious. And hurt. And fucking terrified.

“Worked out just fine, really,” Bucky went on, blithely ignoring the obvious evidence to the contrary as he tried to pull himself together again. “Maybe…”

Steve exploded. “You are  _never_ going out there again. I don’t care what the reason is. We’ve always found another way!”

Bucky shook his head and then took off his hat and gloves and set them aside. “It was my choice, Steve. It wasn’t,” his voice broke, “...wasn’t as bad as all that.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as the transparent lie hung between them.

“Can… can we talk about it in the morning?” Bucky said finally, exhaustion just as transparent.

Steve supposed the least he could do was try to give him his dignity for a few more hours.

“Alright, Buck,” he said.

He shifted over to make room for him but Bucky shied away.

“I’m filthy, Steve,” he said softly.

“I don’t care,” Steve declared. “Just boots off ‘n get in here already.” He wasn’t above the guilt trip. “I’ve been waitin’ for ya all night.”

“Really want me in bed with ya?”

Sometimes Steve just wanted to strangle Bucky’s pride. He knew Bucky often felt the same way about Steve. But now, Steve just wanted that uncharacteristic tentativeness to go away.

He looked up at Bucky, who made no move to join him yet. Steve cleared his throat and met Bucky’s eyes as best he could in the orange glow through curtains, “Nuts! Anyone would be privileged to share a bed with you, Bucky Barnes. Even if you’re a jerk ‘n elbow people in your sleep.” He’d never say that to Bucky’s face in daylight, but he couldn’t let whatever ugly thing he was thinking fester if he could help it. “Now get in here. I’m freezin’, Buck.”

“Your own damn fault for sittin’ up,” Bucky muttered, but he shrugged out of his jacket and toed off his shoes. The jacket went over the top blanket and Bucky squeezed in next to Steve. He was stiff as a board at first and he smelled of worse sins than whatever rotgut it had been, but he was warm and safely home and the rest of the world could go hang. Steve knew the kind of guy Bucky was. He was Steve’s better half. It drove him crazy when Bucky treated himself like less than he was.

They’d argue in the morning, Steve told himself, and tried to fall asleep.

It didn’t work.

Maybe half an hour later, just when Steve was starting to feel warm again, Bucky slumped and mumbled, “I didn’t mean things to go so far. I’m sorry. I was stupid.”

“Were you drunk?” Steve asked. He was fairly confident Bucky wasn’t sober  _now_. He still couldn’t understand how Bucky could have been so  _stupid_.

“Drunk enough,” Bucky admitted. He shifted so Steve could see his eyes and forehead. “I didn’t go stand on a street corner or anything, Stevie. I ain't  _that_ dumb. I could see the guy eyeing me in the bar. It was just gonna be one but then he bought me another drink ‘n I knew he thought…”

“You don’t gotta explain, Buck,” Steve said, wanting very much for Bucky to explain.

“I was just gonna blow him but…” Bucky swallowed dryly. “I was drunker by then ‘n he made it sound worth it.”

Steve had never asked before. He hadn’t wanted to know. Now he hoped for a different answer. “Was… had you…You did it before, right? Not just with a dame, I mean?”

The silence said all Bucky needed to.

“Jesus, Bucky,” Steve whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hell are you sorry about?” Bucky snarled. “Wasn’t you who did it.” The anger vanished, leaving quiet misery. “I wish it had been.”

And there it was. What did Steve do now? Acknowledge it? Pretend he hadn’t heard? They didn’t talk about it much, the thing that could have been between them. It was enough, and hard enough, to know it was there.

Steve was sick of Bucky sacrificing himself for Steve and the idea of some other man’s hands on his Bucky was intolerable. Sure, they got a bit ragged in the winter and Bucky reserved his good clothes for deserving occasions, but he couldn’t believe anyone had seriously thought Bucky was rough trade.

“...so, is there anything you still haven’t done?” Steve asked, aiming for casual and falling about a million miles short of the mark. “I mean… you were catcher, not pitcher, right?”

It took him several seconds to be sure Bucky was laughing and not crying. “God, I love you, Steve Rogers. You’re stupid, but I fuckin’ love ya.”

Laughter was not quite what Steve had been hoping for, but he’d take the win.

It made the rest a little less bitter.


	33. Chapter 33

The heat had started to feel like an internal instead of external force. Steve wanted to take his freshly sweat-dampened clothes off. He found himself tugging at the hem of one glove.

That was the drug talking. He wasn’t overheating and he wasn’t going to do that. He lowered his hands to his sides.

“Put your mask back on, asset,” Steve ordered. At least if they got dosed again, it would just be Steve.

If Steve was really less affected, was Steve less affected because of a difference in their enhancements or because the Winter Soldier was conditioned to be suggestible?

The asset made a noise that was half-sigh and half-sob and picked up its mask. It stayed on its knees.

Steve had too much experience with the asset on its knees now and none of it was helping him to ignore the sound of its labored breathing. “Stay here,” he told it.

He walked the length of the hallway and the two connected corridors. The doors on the end were sealed, leaving Steve and the asset in an H-shaped trap.

The vents were too small to be useful in an escape. The four exits were sealed with pairs of doors which formed security airlocks. Steve tried to access one, first with his SHIELD ID and then with his fist. The vent closest to him came to life, spewing more of the purple fog.

Rumlow’s voice crackled into his ear. “Don’t try to access the doors from inside, Cap. That just tells the computer the dosage wasn’t high enough. You’ve gotta let us crack it from out here.”

Holding his breath, Steve retreated. When he was back around the corner with the asset, he tapped his own device, gasped in a breath of relatively uncontaminated air, and said, “Acknowledged. Making any... headway?”

Rumlow snorted. “Why? Is it getting hot in there?”

Hot, yes. “We know... anything about... this stuff yet? What are we... in for?” Steve panted. He might not have reacted fast enough or maybe the drugs could be absorbed through skin. It was getting harder to think, much less breathe or speak.

“The first symptom is dehydration to weaken you against the effects,” reported a new voice, female, not STRIKE. “Sweating, likely to encourage you to strip. Increased saliva production. Next will be chills, and an urge to seek the nearest warm body.”

She sounded suspiciously well-informed.

It was on the tip of Steve’s tongue to say something like,  _If I didn’t know better, I’d think you locked me in here because you want to see me fuck the asset._  Steve strongly suspected he  _didn’t_  know better.

But he  _did_  know better than to say that.

Shit. Until right that moment, the part about inhibitions being affected hadn’t worried him except regarding his conduct toward the asset. Now he realized his entire mission might be in jeopardy. He should stop talking altogether.

The asset shuddered violently and dug its left hand into the floor tile. “C...Captain. Please.”

Steve looked at it, bowed over its knees like the floor was the only thing keeping it from some violent action, like it was on the verge of losing control.

He stared helplessly, aware of the throbbing of the painfully hard length confined by his uniform pants. He’d seen too much already of that dark hair spilling messily over the asset’s bare neck and shoulders, the way it clung differently to skin and metal when it was wet, the way the asset’s right shoulder moved more than the left when it was...

Steve blinked. The asset was fully covered and masked by dark combat gear, festooned with weapons, and slowly destroying the floor beneath its hands. No bare skin in sight.

“Understood,” he said and cut his outgoing audio again.

He looked away from the asset and crossed his hands over his chest but the motion and pressure just made his skin burn and his pants feel even tighter. The asset had the right idea. He dropped his arms and groped for something else to hold on to.

“Captain!” whimpered the asset, but it stayed where Steve had told it to. Exactly where Steve had told it to. It didn’t so much as turn its head to look at him. Its knees hadn’t moved at all.

That had to be painful. Steve should do something to help it.

He started to shift his weight toward it.

Snap-crunch. The asset made a noise of miserable frustration as its handhold was reduced to gravel. It shook as it sank its gloved fingers into another place. “Please. Please. Please. _Anything. Please,_ Captain _. Please!_ ” It devolved into small hurt sounds and ragged panting.

Steve realized what he was doing and retreated. He grabbed his shield off his back and squeezed the hard edge of it desperately. It bit unforgivingly into his palms and he savored the distraction.

He swallowed convulsively as sweat stung his eyes and stuck his uniform to his heaving chest. They felt like they were burning too. He wanted to rip off everything touching his body. He wanted to help the asset. But he was protecting it by not doing anything. If he made a move toward it, they might both lose control. They’d tear each other’s clothes off and exactly how it would go down didn’t matter. Steve’d always imagined himself flexible like that, but the asset didn’t get to top very often and never with men... and he'd always wanted... that is, he wasn’t opposed to making things better for it if he could... Bucky would have... It wasn't Bucky but maybe that would be some relief and the asset sounded like it wanted relief as much as Steve did if not more and he admired its disconcertingly familiar form, its stubborn attempt to complete its task, the way it trusted him and continued to comply when he'd done nothing but deny it even in the face of Rumlow's warning that Steve's choice was dangerous...

No. HYDRA wasn’t going to get a show from them. If he was going to compromise himself further, he’d do it with a clear head and a sense of purpose.

He shook his head. He wasn’t going to do that at all. It was the drug again.

How long things continued like that, Steve wasn’t sure.

Eventually, he couldn’t take the asset’s little noises anymore. He felt like a torturer. And surely watching it masturbate wasn’t so bad? He’d lost track of how many times it had literally asked and he’d said no. It needed relief and he could give it this much, right?

He wouldn’t ask it to reciprocate. It wasn’t reciprocation when the asset didn’t have a choice about taking what Steve gave it.

Not that he was going to  _give_ it anything. Nothing but permission. Steve could tough this out until they were out, even if the asset couldn’t.

“You can... touch yourself… Soldier,” he gasped out.

“ _Thank you, Captain... Thank you_ ,” it panted. “H...how?”

Oh, yeah. Steve had somehow forgotten that crucial detail.


	34. Chapter 34

“Stand and strip,” Steve ordered it. He didn’t dare touch his own uniform or watch the asset. He turned to face the wall and tapped his ear again. “Who’s monitoring us?” he asked. Someone would be. “I remember signing some sort of…. contingency form... for this kind of situation.”

SHIELD protocol required one agent and one trained medic to observe if possible to evaluate and intervene if necessary. Steve had put himself down as willing to take any partner who was also willing. He hadn’t been able to change anything after taking on the mission to get close to HYDRA within SHIELD. They’d probably put that down to a willingness to take one for his team, which it was, rather than an indifference to the gender of his partners. He didn’t  _want_ anyone when he still wasn’t over Peggy and Bucky but he wasn’t going to say no based on what someone had between their legs.

“Just me, Cap,” Rumlow assured him. “And the doc. Called it in as soon as you got exposed."

If Steve hadn't known about HYDRA, that would probably have been reassuring. Since he  _did_  know about HYDRA, he didn't believe no one else was watching.

"Thanks, Rumlow," Steve said. "This stuff works fast. My judgment's already pretty compromised."

"Hey, what are teammates for?" There was a long pause while Steve grit his teeth and stared fixedly at the edge of the shield clenched in his hands. "How's the asset doing?"  
  
Steve had been trying to ignore the sounds it made while undressing. He licked his lips. "Conscious and compliant.”

“And you? Doc wants know know if you’re still sweating.”

He wasn’t. His mouth was still watering and he was starting to feel like his skin wasn’t doing its job as a barrier, like he was raw and exposed under his uncomfortable uniform, but the sweat wasn’t pouring off him the way it had been. “I don’t think so. No chills yet.”

Something from the asset’s gear clattered against the floor behind him.  _Don’t think about it. Don’t imagine it._ He didn’t dare turn. “Hey, I know what I put on the form. What about the asset?”

Rumlow laughed. “You kidding? The asset doesn’t sign consent forms or liability waivers, Cap. It’s all up to you in there. Not like that’s much different than usual for it. Just a little more urgency in this situation than an average mission.”

“Okay,” Steve said.

“So why won’t you fuck it?” Rumlow asked.

“It’s wrong,” said Steve without thinking and wanted to hit his head against the wall because  _of course_  this was a prime opportunity to interrogate Steve.  _More appealing truth, what’s my more appealing truth?_

The HYDRA agent provided it for him. Rumlow snorted, amused and frustrated. “That 1940s morality shit again? You’ve put your hand on its dick and your cock in its mouth, but you won’t fuck its ass? It’s not even a man. You got some fucking weird hangups, Rogers.”

“Given how things look to be going,” Steve said, trying to think of something to sidetrack him, “I think you’d better start calling me Steve.”

There was a silence.

The asset made a soft, broken, whimpering noise. The sound came from head-height, confirming that it had obeyed the instruction to stand.

Steve didn’t turn. He found he was rocking his hips a little and stopped before he ended up humping either the shield or the wall. This was all going to be so embarrassing later but it was hard to care about anything beyond the desperate desire for some kind of friction.

“You talking to me or the asset?” Rumlow asked. He sounded wary and Steve couldn’t think why that would be.

“Ah,” Steve said. He’d forbidden the asset to call him that once and it had somehow stuck when a lot of things didn’t. He hadn’t wanted it to use Bucky’s memory against him. He really desperately wanted to hear Bucky's voice say his name again but the Winter Soldier  _wasn’t Bucky._  It couldn't be.

“Please, Captain?” begged the asset.


	35. Chapter 35

  
Steve shook his head as if he could dispel the effects of the drugs that way. "It sounds too much like him. Bucky." He shivered.

"So help me, Rogers, if you try to out-stubborn this shit and end up with a medical emergency for one or both of you…” Rumlow snarled at him, “being on a first-name basis won't help you." Then he made his voice soft and sympathetic. "Still too hard for you to look at it, huh, _Steve_?"

Steve nodded miserably before he remembered that Rumlow might not be able to see him. He should take a moment to figure out what the cameras were in this exact stretch of hallway, but that would mean turning and seeing the asset. The asset was naked. Behind him. Naked. Warm. Another shiver ran through him. This time, he recognized it as the next phase of reaction to the drugs.

He sighed. His skin was so sensitive it felt like he didn't have any. "There aren't enough people who call me Steve anymore," he said mournfully. "But you're right. I can be reckless, but I'm not stupid."

"Be careful, Steve," Rumlow warned him. "It _will_ take any advantage."

"Yeah," Steve agreed dutifully, but wasn't sure that was true. Begging aside, the asset had never been anything but accommodating with him.

 _Fuck_ , he wanted to see that small pleased smile on its face again. He wanted a lot of things he knew he shouldn’t.

It was the drugs. Had to be.

Even though he wasn’t sure he could coach it through getting itself off, he really couldn’t leave it to suffer. He was trying not to be cruel.

The asset started to say something but its voice broke on a sob on the first syllable. “...I’ll be good,” it cried wretchedly. “ _Please_. I’ll be so _good_ for you. Anything you want. Please.” Wet noises of misery tore mercilessly at Steve’s heart.

He’d done that. He’d made the asset cry. _HYDRA_ hadn’t made the asset cry in all the time he’d known it. Was Steve worse than HYDRA for denying it? _Don’t think about it._

He shivered again. If his resistance was higher, the asset must have been through this already when he'd been trying not to pay attention. He wanted to wrap his body around its so they could keep each other warm. That was all. He couldn’t ignore the heavy ache of his cock and balls but they weren’t why he’d give in. He was doing what was best for the asset, not for himself.

There wouldn’t be any medical emergency. He’d risk himself, but he couldn’t do that to the asset when it didn’t have an equal choice. _Do what you have to do._

Steve turned. "Guess I better take care of you," he said.

He had already been hard enough to hurt, but _God_ he was thirsty all of a sudden and the asset looked like a tall drink of water. The only part of it not shining with perspiration or tears was the metal arm. The urge to lick the salt water from its body was overwhelming.

All of its body. Say, for instance, that painful looking erection.

No. Rumlow was watching, everything he'd been told about the need to maintain dominance said HYDRA wouldn't like it, and there was no telling how the Winter Soldier would react to something so far from its normal experience. In spite of many examples, Steve wasn't quite sure how to go about it, either.

A shiver passed through him. His sweat-damp uniform was chilled by the air and clung unpleasantly to his sensitive body. He wanted it off. What the fuck had he been thinking, leaving it on until everything was wet and harder to work with.

"I need to get out of this," he said to no one in particular.

The asset trembled, maybe from the chills. "Please. I could assist you, Steve," it offered, fisted hands flexing, head down so its face was still obscured.

Nothing so wrong with that, was there? He swallowed hard, though his mouth was mostly dry now, and took one hand off the shield. "Going off comms again," he informed Rumlow, as if it mattered. There was no response before he had his cowl off. Warily, Steve set his shield against the wall. His skin burned with the drag of his wet uniform. He shivered again. "Okay, Soldier," is all he had time to say before it lunged for his neck with both hands.

Involuntarily, he brought his hands up to block as he flinched back into the wall. It crunched a little, pressing his shield harness into his back like lines of fire on his oversensitive skin.

The sudden movement and pain left him feeling breathless and a little dizzy, the way only extreme exertion had since the serum.

He hadn’t missed the sensation.

When he could think mostly straight again, he opened his eyes to find he’d put his hands on the asset’s bare chest. Its hands were raised at shoulder height in surrender. Its breathing was very fast. As fast as his.

He made himself look at its face.

"Steve?" The asset's voice was tentative, its breathing still ragged and desperate as it stared into his eyes.

Steve licked his lips. The asset’s focus dropped to his mouth like it was looking at him through a laser sight. “Soldier.” They’d been about to do something. He took a deep breath and the pull of the uniform on his chest reminded him. He licked his lips again.

For one heart-stopping moment, Steve thought Bucky was going to kiss him, but… It wasn’t Bucky, it was the asset, and it only dropped its head again. _It’s not. It’s not. It’s not._

Walking them a step or two away from the wall, Steve whispered, “Help me out of my wet gear and we’ll see what we can do for you, alright?”

Slowly, telegraphing the motion so Steve didn’t startle again, it moved its hands to curl around the collar of his uniform.

“Oh. Ah, yeah,” Steve encouraged. It was like he could feel the heat of its fingers soothing away some of the chill and sensitivity.

The asset’s eyes flicked up to his lightning fast and then there was a long moment of breathless sparkling agony as it tore the front of his uniform almost from neck to navel.

Steve gasped as his legs nearly buckled, but it stepped in to slide its fingers under the shoulders and ease his arms out. This had the side-effect of pressing their chests together and he went with it, too stunned to think beyond the promise of having nothing but air and those hands on his skin.

Then it tugged on the remains of his uniform hanging from his hips and, for a time, he stopped thinking altogether.


	36. Chapter 36

The next thing Steve was aware of was the shock of the first orgasm. He was flat on his back on the partially pulverized tile floor with the asset sprawled on top of him. His right thigh was slotted between its legs and it was rutting against him. He didn't know how long they'd been like that but it couldn't have been too long. He didn't expect he'd lasted at all with his cock trapped between their bellies. Everywhere their skin touched was effervescent pleasure and relief. The burning pain was gone and in its wake came sweet tingling warmth.

The asset's face was pressed into Steve's collarbone. Its hair was fanned out over Steve's neck and upper chest. Steve had never really imagined doing it this way but it was good, so good.

The asset made a noise somewhere between the chuckle and a sob. "Please," the asset rasped.

Steve's hips pressed up against it and it gasped. "Ready?" Steve panted. He knew it couldn't come without permission but he didn't want to give permission too soon.

He was fuzzy on _why_ permission too soon was a problem but that was okay. All he had to do was take care of the asset. The asset made it easy. It would tell him. He could trust it to take care of both of them.

"Please," it whimpered into his neck.

Steve breathed out the command and immediately there was rush of hot pleasure between them.

 _Come_ on skin felt even better than skin on skin.

“Thank you, Steve,” it whispered.

They panted together, moving slowly.

Steve couldn't really remember why he hadn't wanted this.

The asset made another sound.

Steve gasped. "What? Tell me what you need."

The asset lifted its head to look at him and Steve had to fight the urge to flinch away from what was Bucky's messiest bed head combined with the few times Bucky had been the one sweaty with fever, wild-eyed, with hair sticking to his forehead.

His hair had never been so long before but it suited his face.

Steve shook his head, unable to clear it.

_What the fuck am I doing? It's not Bucky._

“Lube," he, it, said. "In my vest. Interior pocket."

"No," Steve told it, more sharply than he'd intended.

Something shuttered in its expression. More resignation then… No, there was fear and oh fuck, that was _betrayal_.

Steve clarified, "We're not doing that."

Had it thought that denial meant he intended to take it dry? It seemed horribly plausible. That or it felt betrayed he wouldn’t fuck it. He wasn’t going near its ass while he had a shred of control. That was… important. Because neither of them wanted this, despite how it was acting.

It rolled off him and punched the floor with a choked off cry. A shard of floor tile grazed Steve's cheek.

From under its wild hair the asset glared at him in confused frustrated belligerence. It growled, "I don't know if you're the best handler I've ever had or the worst."

"What, because I refuse to commit sodomy with you?" Steve demanded.

" _With_ me, Steve?" The response was half mocking smile and half snarl.

Inhibitions were definitely out the window now and Steve forced himself to remember and care that they were being monitored.

Steve reached out for a handful of hair and a grip on its neck and shoulder. It watched the motion but did nothing to stop him. He hooked its legs and flipped them over so he had the asset pinned. It groaned and arched into him, grinding their erections together.

"Do you like the things STRIKE does to you?" Steve hissed, grinding back. He barely knew what he was saying before the words were out of his mouth and into the centimeters of air between them.

And the asset answered.

"I don't know," it snarled. "I don't remember. But you're better. I like this with you." It stopped moving abruptly, glaring eyes going wide and horrified before they hardened into something cold and angry. Scared and defiant.

It took Steve longer than it should have to understand what was going on through the fog of pleasure in the whiplash of emotions. The asset had just expressed dissatisfaction with its handler and admitted to non-mission-related opinions and judgments. A preference. Steve didn't actually care. He was swept away in the euphoria of physical pleasure and the rush of relief that the asset _could_ do those things.

It wasn't a machine. There was an honest-to-God person in there, somewhere, even if it wasn't… couldn't be Bucky.

"Good," he said fiercely and pressed his lips to the asset's jaw. "I wouldn't want you thinking about anyone else right now."


	37. Chapter 37

Trailing kisses down the asset’s jaw and neck, Steve let his body move on instinct as he internally berated himself for the implied order. He was supposed to be _helping_ the asset, not telling it what to think. The drugs were getting the better of him. “Here for you, Soldier,” he murmured apologetically. “I have you.”

The asset nodded, desperately eager to make up for its perceived transgressions. “Yes, Steve. Yours. _Use me_ , please.”

Steve stared at a bead of sweat on the asset’s chest as they rocked and slid against each other. Quite without thought, he raised his head to fulfill his earlier fantasy and licked along the trail of perspiration down to the asset’s nipple.

It was the drugs.

It should have been sweaty and gross. It _was_ sweaty but the tang of salt on his tongue only reminded him of how desperately thirsty he was. He did it again.

Steve's hand found both their erections and stroked them together, slicked by the mixture of come and sweat smearing both of them. Semen on skin was so good it felt unreal. The feel of the asset’s cock with his was obscene beyond imagining. Steve came. While he reeled from the unexpected orgasm, the asset threw its head back with a cry and bucked almost hard enough to dislodge him.

" _Please_ ," it begged, "please, Steve!"

On impulse, Steve nipped its right shoulder. The asset hissed and writhed under and against him.

"Tell me what you want," Steve breathed for the asset’s ears alone. "Anything you want. Anything but _that_."

"I don't _know_ ," it said desperately. "Anything you want. As long as it's you, _anything_ , Steve!" Both of the assets hands were twisted into its own hair, pulling harshly. "You're the handler. You're supposed to tell me what I… want."

He licked another bead of sweat off the asset’s collarbone and realized it was still twisting its hands into its hair.

What a waste of a pair of hands in this situation.

“You can touch me, asset,” he told it. “If it feels good to you, go ahead.”

Instantly, the asset extricated its fingers and ran its hand over Steve’s shoulders to stroke his sides. Its breathing was increasingly ragged and its made desperate cut-off noises deep in its throat. Its right hand kneaded right above Steve’s ass while the metal one stroked his back in quick short movements.

Steve kind of wished they’d reversed. It had to be the drugs, the way he kept imagining the asset’s metal hand on his ass. Neither of them wanted what was happening.

"You ready again?" he murmured, feeling how it throbbed under his fingers. He adjusted his grip and it panted, staring at him with wild eyes.

"Again?" it repeated, shaky and breathless, and Steve remembered that it was only permitted once per session as reward and found himself grinning at it.

"Pretty sure it's a medical necessity right now, Soldier.” Absurd bubbly euphoria washed through him as they moved together and he tried not to laugh at the asset's face. He absolutely did not giggle.

It had to be the drugs.

"Please, I. _Steve_. _Yes_. Please, _yes_ ," it begged and Steve said "Come for me," and it did.

Its expression was one of shock mingled with gratitude or something like elation. He would have to see it again to be sure. He _wanted_ to see it again.

This wasn’t so bad, he thought, as the Winter Soldier arched and squirmed under him, seeking more friction while Steve licked the salt from its chest and carefully clutched its left shoulder while he rubbed them together.

The asset hissed in a slow breath through its teeth and arched its head back to knock against the broken floor. Concerned, Steve stilled all his movements. “Pain?” he questioned.

Hair slapped across its nose as it shook its head. “Means little, Captain,” it assured him but the tightness around its mouth and the lines around its eyes said otherwise.

Steve moved his hand again. The asset clenched its jaw and breathed unevenly through its nose with its eyes squeezed shut. When he took his hand off its cock it sucked in a breath and started to relax a little.

That seemed pretty damn clear to him.

They were both still hard, though the asset had stopped sweating now as far as Steve could tell. Maybe the effects were wearing off?

Steve slumped sideways onto the mostly-clear section of floor in the direction of his gear and rolled over.

The asset whimpered. “ _Steeeeeeve!_ ” Steve felt like whimpering too at the loss of skin contact. He shivered. Everything was so cold without the asset’s touch.

The shreds of his uniform were unceremoniously piled near his shield. Exhausted and dizzy, he forced himself to hands and knees and crawled over to reach for his comms.

“Rum… low?” he panted.

There was no answer. Had Steve broken the device? He couldn’t tell. It was too small and too complicated to think about.

He was so cold. He couldn’t remember quite what he’d wanted Rumlow for anyway.

He flopped back and stretched his hand out to the asset, which surged into his side and rubbed its warm face against the back of his hand.

A faint hissing noise caught his attention. Steve lifted his head. There was a high staccato noise from somewhere nearby. Bucky’s blue eyes looked down at him in shock and Steve realized the noise was his own hysterical giggling.

More purple fog billowed out of the air vents.


	38. Chapter 38

Almost immediately, touching was barely any relief. Steve and the asset clutched at each other, matching superhuman strength against superhuman durability, as if pressing hard enough would allow them to slip through each other’s skin. It wasn’t even _good_ to touch anymore but not touching was worse.

Steve’s mouth was dry, his entire being desperately parched. In his desperate embrace, the Winter Soldier rubbed its cheek against his and made little pained noises. When Steve tried to turn his head to see its face, the world spun around him. He couldn’t have released it or moved if he’d tried. His muscles were cramping but it hardly mattered because he was so deeply fatigued.

“Steve,” the asset croaked in a voice hoarse and painful. “Captain. I. _Wrong_.”

“Soldier.” Steve could barely get the word out. Dizzy and disoriented, he kept as still as he could and groped for the words. “Injury… report.”

“Blurry vision. Hot. Muscle cramps.” Before Steve could come up with a response, it added, sounding horribly like Bucky in a nightmare during the war, “Steve. Hurts. Please. It hurts.”

It did hurt. Every bit of untouched skin burned hot from within and cold from without. Where they did touch felt like friction burns. The sensation was beyond any relief of pleasure or even any notice of sexual arousal as anything but additional pain. His head felt like it might implode at any moment.

"Overdose,” Steve breathed. If he’d had the moisture left to cry, he might have. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking _fair_. They’d been complying. It was hard to think but he was _sure_ they’d been complying. “I think… yeah, overdose.” _I’m so sorry. My fault. I fucked up. Should have listened_.

“Siberia?” The asset’s utterance was small and frightened almost to the point of inaudibility.

"Wha?” Steve didn’t understand the connection. The cold? God, it was cold.

“Non-compliant supersoldiers. Disposal.”

 _Oh, hell. I said that out loud?_ “You’re not going to Siberia, Soldier.”

It moved its head so its mouth was right by his ear. “Steve. Please. Be good. Don’t let them take you away again.”

He had no idea what it was getting at. “I’m here, Soldier,” he whispered. “I won’t let them. I’m with you.”

"With you,” it repeated and let its head fall over his shoulder.

A interminable length of time passed. Everything hurt and Steve couldn’t _think_ the way he knew he was supposed to.

“Soldier?” he said, realizing it hadn’t moved or spoken at all since. “Asset? Asset, respond!”

Adrenaline dispelled just enough of the fog in his head that he could start to panic. _Unconsciousness. Coma. Death_. This was what he’d feared the entire time they’d been stumbling away from the burning ruin of Zola’s lab and all the time on the march, every time they’d stopped and Bucky had slumped against him like he might not get back up and it was happening now and he couldn’t stop it he was _going to lose him after all and..._

There was a short sharp noise, like a snap somewhere by his exposed ear.

“....Cap? Rogers!”

There was a strange sensation of stinging relief on his other cheek. Blurry pale figures appeared when he blinked his dry eyes. Were those… hazmat suits?

"Yeah, he’s conscious. Just blinked at me. Cap, you with us?”

“Told you to… _Steve_ ,” Steve told Rumlow, because it was. He knew his voice, even filtered.

“You fucked up, Steve,” Rumlow told him.

Hands tried to pull the unconscious body out of Steve’s arms. “Nooooooo,” Steve protested and even weakened as he was, they weren’t able to break his grip. “Bucky!”

Rumlow slapped him again. “ _Wake up_ , Steve. It’s not Bucky. You know that. Let us take it. It needs help.”

“But…”

He gave him another hit. Steve leaned into it. Another one, almost refreshing. He sighed.

“What the fuck, Cap?” Rumlow demanded. “You _like_ that?”

“As long as we can get fluids into them and lower their core temperatures, we can hold off separating them for now,” said a woman’s voice.

There were more hands on him and suddenly he and the asset were lying on something flat and elevated while blurry people-tents moved around them.

“Captain Rogers, I need your hand, please,” said the doctor and that was the last thing Steve remembered.


	39. Chapter 39

A hand on his arm woke him to a background of steady beeping and humming equipment. Steve groaned and tried to straighten his head.

Everything still hurt. Every part of him felt raw. He tried to swallow. His lips and tongue felt sticky and thick but he was able to work up a little saliva. That was important, though he couldn't think why. He tried to turn into the touch and found himself unable to move enough to get closer before the hand patted his shoulder and withdrew. He whined at the loss.

"Steve?" A man's amused voice.

Steve opened his eyes.

Brock Rumlow stared down at him with a smirk twisting his lips and lines of humor around his eyes. "You know, you're about as sweet as our Soldier when you're semiconscious. Real affectionate. Never would've guessed you felt that way about us, Cap." He grinned evilly just long enough for Steve to start to feel cold and panicky about what might've happened while he was unconscious but then his expression sobered up. "Got you for a second there, didn't I, Steve? Nah, don't worry, we all resisted your octopus impression. But that's why you're in restraints, buddy."

So he was. Steve lifted his head a little to see he was still naked except for heavy restraints over each limb and across his chest. IV in his right hand. Looked like just fluids, though that was a dangerous assumption to make. They could have at least put a sheet over him or something. Or not. His skin burned and he ached with unrelieved need. Now he was aware of them, the restraints were as uncomfortable as his clothes had been before. He was sure they were supersoldier grade, either meant for the asset or designed for Steve himself. It was no surprise to him that such things existed, especially here, wherever here was.

He shivered. His hair was wet. It didn't feel like sweat. It felt cool and fresh and clean.

Wanting to buy time to figure out what was going on, he closed his eyes again and cast out with his senses for information. He couldn't hear outside whatever room they were in and the air pressure seemed normal. There was no sense of movement. They were most likely stationary on dry land. The absolute silence from outside suggested either unusually good soundproofing in a quiet area or that they were underground. There were maybe three people moving about tantalizingly close to his bed. They seemed calm. Rumlow was still standing over him and Steve desperately wanted his hand on him again but that wasn't something he could ask for, not here, not from him. He was sure things would get pretty ugly if he did, despite the mixed signals the Commander kept giving him. Steve was naked and still aroused. It would be so easy for someone to just reach down and... no.

Steve had never wanted Rumlow anyway. He wasn’t hard to look at but Steve doubted they would have been compatible even if they'd had the same loyalties and Steve hadn't been hung up on the ghosts of the people he'd never have. He must still be under the influence of drugs he and the asset…

The asset. What had happened to the asset?

"Thanks. Appreciated." Steve's voice came out thick. He licked his lips and cleared his throat. He tipped his head meaningfully in the direction of the other people in the room. "The asset?"

"Of  _course_  that's what you ask first. Yeah, they’re cleared. What the hell are we supposed to do with you, Rogers? You wouldn't even let go of it until the docs put you both in the first ice bath. It's recovering too, and probably better than you, because it actually  _listens to fucking instructions_  most of the time."

"Still affected," Steve said. Ice bath explained his hair. He was glad he didn't remember it. It wasn't like he needed more nightmares of being submerged in icy water.

"Yeah," Rumlow half snapped at him. "It's persistent shit and you two were exposed to a fuck ton of it. You got… " He would've continued but the door opened.

"Sorry to interrupt. Commander, they need you upstairs. The Secretary wants an update.”

Rumlow sighed. “Fine.” He patted Steve again twice.

He struggled not to show any reaction to the rush of sweet relief at the brief contact.

The way Rumlow smiled at him told him he hadn't succeeded. 

"Stay put and listen to the doctors until I get back, got it?”

Instantly, Steve resented his tone. Rumlow wasn't his ma or his Bucky and he'd never taken those orders well from them either. “Like I have a choice?” he grit out.  _What am I, a 90 pound asthmatic kid with bronchitis and a broken nose and ribs again?_ He took a calming breath as Rumlow just smiled at him, shook his head, and walked out. He didn't appreciate being managed. Handled.  _What am I, a Winter Soldier?_

“I'm sorry, Captain Rogers,” said one of the doctors. Male. A stranger. More attractive than he should be to Steve. “We need to run a few tests while your current lucidity lasts.”

“The IV?” he questioned with forced calm. _We're all meant to be SHIELD and I should trust them not to lie to me._ At least it didn't look purple.

“Electrolytes and glucose. You needed fluids and energy and we couldn’t give you anything that might interact with the unknown substances already in your system.”

Steve nodded. Unknown. Sure. And he had ownership of a bridge they might be interested in. It didn’t matter. He’d been playing along for months already.

“And, as you know, the serum...”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He flexed the hand that was hidden from the doctor's sight, trying to ground himself. The doctor looked so _warm_. 

They stared at each other awkwardly while Steve bent all his willpower to the task of not trying to get closer to the man.

“Tests, you said?” Steve prompted him. He tried to smile but didn’t think it was coming out right from his reaction.  _Fuck_ he wanted contact.

“Oh! Right,” said the doctor. “What’s the last thing you remember, Captain?”

“I thought the drugs were wearing off but then we were dosed again. We were both suffering from symptoms of severe dehydration. I…got confused.”  _Flashed back to the war, I think, or maybe just a nightmare. I called the asset Bucky._  “I wouldn’t let go of the asset. We were lifted onto a gurney or something together?”

“That’s right. Good. Well done. Now we need to test your vision…”

 _That’s right. Good. Well done._  They were common phrases. Almost meaningless.

But they were also the ones Rumlow and the tech team  _and Steve_  used over and over in different combinations with the asset and that? That made Steve nervous.

 _Oh, god. Siberia. Be_ _good_. _Don't let them take you away. Was the asset trying to warn me?_

Steve was chemically compromised and securely restrained under the care of HYDRA-affiliated doctors. He'd been counting on them playing the same long game he was, on acting like SHIELD. How much trouble was he actually in?

__


	40. Chapter 40

“Captain, your heart rate…” said the doctor.

“Where is the asset?" Steve demanded, aware of the panic in his voice but unable to calm himself.

“It’s fine,” he was assured. "In much the same state as yourself. You needn’t worry.” The doctor pressed something on a remote control and adjusted the table to raise Steve’s upper body. “What is the smallest row you can read on the far wall please, Captain?"

"ECLPQ," Steve rattled off. "When can I get out of these?” It was an effort not to fight the restraints now. Thank God this room only smelled of disinfectant and slightly stale air under the embarrassingly heady scent of Steve’s own sweat and arousal.

"That’s _right_. Well done. Captain Rogers…"

A chill ran down his spine. Accidentally shifting against his chest restraint, Steve had to fight back a whimper. "I'm not gonna assault anyone," he promised. A full-body sense memory of the asset pressed against him flashed through him. His toes curled as he struggled not to arch up again. He was distantly aware that he would feel humiliated once the drugs wore off but he couldn't think of that now.

The doctor sighed. "I know you think you can control yourself now, Captain Rogers, but I imagine you understand why we're being careful."

Steve tried to relax and bring his heart rate down. "What's happening with the asset now?" He persisted, unable to help himself from worrying about it. ”Has it regained consciousness?”

The doctor hesitated visibly. "Yes. It is conscious."

"Lucid?" Steve asked.

"Not especially. It's been taken for another ice bath."

Steve supposed he felt disappointed and it probably showed because the doctor hurried to say, "Of course, the asset has substantially less resistance to the drugs as it has less will of its own with which to resist."

"I just wanna make sure I wasn't too rough on it. It's all kinda fuzzy."

" _Rough_ on it?" exclaimed Rumlow as he tromped back in. He was still wearing all his gear from the mission, Steve noticed. Embarrassing as it was, he had to admit he hadn’t noticed much more than proximity and the possibility of touch the first time after he woke up. " _Rough_ , Rogers?” Rumlow crossed the room to stand over him frowning, hands on his hips. "If you’d been any gentler, you might both be dead. Do you have _any idea_ what could've happened?"

"But it didn't," Steve said slowly. “We didn’t hurt anyone, right?”

"Your stupid resistance got you dosed again. Just like when you tried to open the door. Your systems would free by now if you’d just fucked! Instead we had to medevac you both and hope your brains weren’t fried!" He wasn’t shouting but he might as well have been and the criticism was all more effective because Steve _did_ feel guilty for the asset’s distress. He hadn’t done what was needed and this was the result.

“All for your stupid pride and fucking outdated morality," Rumlow snarled.

"You're right," Steve said, trying to get in front of the conversation and head him off. "I wasn't thinking clearly. Any permanent damage? Anyone get hurt?"

For a few uncomfortable seconds, Rumlow stared at him, wordless. Then something in the way he was holding himself started to relax. "Shit, Cap," he said. "I really thought debriefing after this one might mean explaining to the Secretary how we lost his two best assets. No, no permanent damage yet. We got to you in time. But we gotta fix this. No one's out of the woods yet."

Steve tensed. ”I thought you said we're both recovering.” He looked at the doctor, who nodded.

"Sure,” Rumlow agreed, folding his arms, “but not for long. Drugs won't wear off on their own. You're still feeling it, right?"

Steve shifted uncomfortably.

“So how about it, you gonna let me help us sort this out? Learn to give. You're in a lot of trouble. Don't make it any worse, Steve.” Rumlow patted him again and Steve clenched his jaw against his entirely involuntary reaction. Shudders ran through him with the disturbing thought that maybe Rumlow was trying to treat him like the asset, trying to make associations between pleasure and obedience. It was terrifyingly easy to imagine in his current predicament that it might even work on him given enough time.

"Alright," said Steve warily. "What are our options?"

It was true what Rumlow said. Steve could feel it already. It wasn't natural that he should feel _longing_ at the way Rumlow was trying to look over him. He’d always hated that sort of thing. He hated it _now_ but his body _demanded_  touch and the man was so _close_ if not for the damn restraints.

_Get a grip, Steve._

Considering HYDRA's willingness to use drugs to get what they wanted (and this was twice he'd been drugged now, no question it was HYDRA responsible), he had to wonder how often they used them on the Winter Soldier and how much they aided conditioning. SHIELD could barely manage short-term pain relievers for Steve. As fucked up as HYDRA was, he doubted they would have gone to the trouble of developing drugs to affect supersoldiers just for fun. 

These drugs were working very effectively. What else was working on Steve?

"We came up with three. I, uh, don't have to tell you that these are unusual circumstances. You’re our teammate… and… you know, Captain America… and all that."

Whatever it was was making Rumlow really uncomfortable and Steve found it in himself to almost smile at the ridiculous face he was making. "Laying it on a little thick there, Rumlow," he said.

Something exceedingly strange happened to Rumlow’s face. "Given how things look to be going, maybe you should start calling me Brock," he muttered, not meeting Steve eyes.

Warning bells started to go off in Steve’s head as the STRIKE Commander _blushed_.

"Okay, Brock," he said, greatly disturbed. "Now what the _hell_ did you come up with?"

Rumlow rubbed the back of his head. His own head, not Steve's, though that would've been really nice right now…

_What the hell am I thinking?_

"So those options, Steve? We, uh. The doctors think…"

"What? What do they think?" Steve's voice sounded unnaturally high in his ears.

They were interrupted. “You made a decision yet? Soldier’s in a bad way, Commander."

It was Rollins at the door. He’d stripped off the top half of his gear, down to an undershirt. It was soaking wet, but with a splash pattern instead of sweat. Steve surmised he’d been helping with the ice bath or baths.

Never in his right mind would Steve have wanted to describe Jack Rollins as anything resembling desirable.

"You gonna keep me in suspense until the stuff actually kills me?" Steve prodded them.

Something about Rumlow’s answering laugh was wrong. Steve felt hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the alarm bells in the back of his mind were now more like cymbal crashes.

Incredulous, Rollins said, "You haven't even given him his options yet?"

"No.” Rumlow got control of himself. “Doing that now. So the drugs require fucking. And we, the team that is, know how you feel about consent and shit like that. So we talked about it and decided we volunteer. If you prefer…” The rest of the words failed him.

If the situation hadn't been what it was, it would've been hilarious. As it was, Steve experienced the increasingly uncomfortable combination of overwhelming horror and reluctant arousal. Steve considered. If he hadn’t known his teammates were HYDRA, could that option have been attractive?

No, he decided. 95, not dead, but he couldn't imagine himself inviting a lineup. That hadn't been in even his dirtiest fantasies. Not anything like this. The undercurrent of excitement in Rumlow’s suggestion scared him more than he liked to admit.

“The whole team? What about the asset?"

“That's irrelevant," Rumlow insisted. “Medtechs can take care of it. They've, uh, got a machine…"

This had to be one of the most miserable conversations of Steve's entire life. "You said _options_. Plural."

“We can lock you in a room together again," Rumlow said. "You and the asset. To fuck properly. With supplies so no one ends up unconscious this time.”

"What's behind door number three?" He asked the question with no little trepidation.

A sigh. Disappointed, maybe. "The doctors do it for both of you, but no guarantee that'll work though."

Steve had had enough of sterilized gloved hands and clinical touching already.

“Gee, all the options are so attractive I don't even know where to start,” Steve said.


	41. Chapter 41

"Better make a decision, Cap," said Rollins, craning his neck to see something down the hallway.

Steve heaved a sigh which became half gasp when he let his head fall back against the table. He’d known from the moment he heard the options what he had to do. No matter what Steve might try to tell himself, HYDRA won in all three of the scenarios Rumlow was offering. There was nothing for it. He couldn't let himself _submit_ as well as give in. He had to choose the situation in which he maintained the most control and authority. On a less tactical note, when they had been drugged in that hallway together might be the closest the asset might get to speaking freely. It seemed to have a preference for Steve. No one had been prompting it or feeding it lines.

He didn’t _think_ they had.

Under normal circumstances, with his thinking already clouded, he shouldn’t be having sex anyway but the nature of the drugs eliminated any other option. There was a chance they were lying and the effects would wear off without further action on his part, but there was a chance they weren’t and he could risk himself but he couldn’t risk the Winter Soldier when it had no choice at all. He couldn’t imagine the impersonal touch of the doctors and their machines would slake the drug-induced craving for skin contact and there was no excuse for drawing out the discomfort.

No way in hell was he going to ask for sex from anyone who had voluntarily joined HYDRA. It was different with the asset. The asset didn’t have a choice and it didn’t even always remember that they weren't both HYDRA. The asset wouldn’t be gloating over the security footage later.

"I don't want to drag anyone else into this," he told them. He did his best to make it come out authoritative and firm. "The asset and I were halfway there anyway. Door number two."

Shoulders slumping, Rumlow nodded along at Steve's reasoning. "I guess that's for the best." He sounded disappointed, no matter what he said. "You’re not really clear-headed and none of the rest of us have the Soldier's ability to take damage."

Steve snorted and shook his head. "You just know you couldn't keep up." The words were out of his mouth before he could consider how Rumlow might take them as a challenge.

Fortunately, he just shook his head and clapped his left hand over Steve’s bare shoulder, baring his teeth at him as Steve’s entire body flexed in response. “Oh, I know _exactly_ how to exhaust a supersoldier, Steve. But you’re not as well trained as the other one and we wouldn’t want any _accidental injuries_.” He lifted his hand away and held it up in front of Steve’s face. He clearly enjoyed watching Steve flush at the memory of breaking the asset's hand.

Even more disturbed and trying not to show it, Steve tried to come up with a reply that wouldn’t make him feel even more vulnerable. He should never have offered Rumlow the use of his first name. What had he been _thinking_?

The doctor interrupted before he could get a word out. “Good, good. We’ll just finish our tests and then you can take him.” He spoke to Rumlow and Rollins, not to Steve. Steve was used to that sort of thing but he was sensitive to it now in a way he never had been before. It used to make him angry. Now it frightened him as well.

“Great. We’ll set something up down-levels. Cooperate with the tests and we’ll get you out of here soon as we can, Steve.”

Rumlow brushed his fingers over Steve’s forehead and through his hair. Steve tried to resist pressing into the touch but reacted anyway, eyes fluttering shut as he drew in a deep breath and held himself still. He was onto their manipulation now. They’d have one hell of a fight on their hands if they tried anything.

“Sure thing,” Steve told him.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 200 kudos! Thank you so much. It makes me so happy.

The Winter Soldier was still shivering and dripping when Steve was escorted in to join it. It was sitting with its arms around its knees on a foam pad at the back of the triangular room. There were no blankets or towels. There was no pillow. In fact, the place was almost totally devoid of the sort of comforts Steve had come to expect from the 21st century.

They were definitely underground. The walls looked to be hewn bedrock with an inches thick high security door. Inside the door were a pack of 24 water bottles and a cardboard box presumably containing food and anything else HYDRA considered necessary. Otherwise, the space was bare and hard and cold.

He turned away from the door so he could be released from the magnetic cuffs they’d insisted he wear on the way, escorted in the middle of the whole STRIKE team. The cuffs were all he was wearing. Had he really been so handsy when they’d pulled him out of the lab? He couldn’t see how that was possible when he had been refusing to let go of the asset until the ice bath. Rumlow must have lied. Steve _wanted_ Rumlow to have lied.

Presumably, he’d had his second ice bath first because he had no memory of being conscious during it. The asset clearly hadn’t been so lucky.

And now, not even a goddamn _towel._

Steve side-eyed Rumlow. "If this is your idea of what _fucking properly_ looks like, Rumlow, I’m worried about anyone you're makin' time with outside work hours." He bit back a gasp as the cuffs unlocked. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t rub his wrists and forearms. Even his own touch was… intense... and his teammates were all watching him like they expected him to spring for them at any second.

Shit. Maybe he _had_ reached for someone other than the asset.

Or maybe they were waiting for him catch on to this not being a SHIELD-sanctioned operation and try to make a break for it.

_Don’t think about it now. You're not happy to be here but you're among allies, not enemies._

He drew in and released a slow breath, carefully lowering his hands to his sides without touching any part of himself.

The STRIKE Commander smiled and slapped the cuffs against the outside of the metal door with a loud clang. They stuck. “No more stalling, Steve.”

Someone slapped his bare ass and his whole body jerked, hard cock twitching against his will. He’d been trying to ignore his erection since he’d been awake and that wasn’t helping, _goddamn it_.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

He took a deep breath and didn’t snap back in response.

Rollins gave him a not-very-gentle shove over the threshold and Steve was glad he’d pressed his lips shut. The way the man’s fingers had pressed against the skin of his back sang through his nerves as the door swung shut in his face, sealing with a ominous hiss.

Steve sighed as he stretched his arms and cracked his neck. Something popped loudly and he caught the asset’s flinch as he turned.

Even now, it remembered not to look at him straight on. It shifted its head at an angle and looked up at him uncertainly through wet lashes.

“So, ah. Hey,” Steve said awkwardly, feeling very naked. He almost moved to cover himself but thought better of it. Modesty was pointless.

There was ice in the Winter Soldier’s tangled hair. A piece slid down and bounced off its silver shoulder before clattering to the concrete floor. Its eyes tracked the melting shard.

This was ridiculous. There was no reason not to have provided them with more than a mattress on the floor. Considering the supplies they _had_ been given, it certainly couldn’t be argued a greater safety risk to give the asset a way to dry off.

Steve turned right around and banged twice on the door, hard. “You know, I wasn’t expecting the Ritz, but a towel or thermal blanket would be nice! Not like the asset would _need_ anything to strangle me!” he called.

No response. He looked around for the cameras he knew were there and found one in each of the far corners of the ceiling, one in the center aimed at the door, and one over the door aimed out at the room. Good coverage, overlapping views. No question they could see him.

He hit the door again, frustrated.

“Please,” the asset said, too quiet, and Steve abandoned his attempt to get someone’s attention. “Steve?”

_Don’t think about it. Just take care of the asset._

He picked up two bottles of water and a pair of mystery items in silver plastic packaging. They didn’t feel heavy like the gross energy bar the asset had drugged him with at the Lockbox but he was fairly confident it had to be food. Hopefully _not_ drugged at all. They had plenty in their systems as it was.

“I’m here, Soldier,” he said.


	43. Chapter 43

The room was about twelve feet deep. It didn't feel like twelve feet. Crossing it both stretched for an uncomfortable eternity and took no subjective time at all.

He lowered himself onto the foam pad next to the Winter Soldier with the same sort of care he'd used crossing minefields. If he touched it by accident, he might lose control. It was so appealing, even shaking and wet and miserable. The drugs weren't as powerful now as before they'd come together at the lab, but he could feel the effects building again and knew it was only a matter of time until his higher order thinking abandoned him once more. Already Steve had compromised on crossing the line he had promised himself he wouldn't. All that was left was to try not to hurt it.

The asset's head swung in his direction but its face was still tipped down. It made no other movements.

Steve inhaled. "Asset. Do you know what's going on? Why we're here?" The air was freezing. The asset would be warm, but he couldn't given to his body's demands just yet. The least he could do was be better than HYDRA and do his best to look after it first.

"We were drugged. The Commander said you agreed to fuck me," it reported.

The words sent a jolt of helpless lust through him. Steve swallowed hard and nodded. His mouth was still a little dry. He uncapped one of the water bottles. "Yeah. I'm here to take care of you. Have some water, Soldier." Careful not to brush fingers, he passed the asset the open bottle before uncapping the other one for himself and taking a sip.

Without hesitation, the asset drank half the bottle. It sipped slowly at the rest, watching Steve through its hair. There was no point worrying about whether or not the water was safe. Neither of them were meant to believe themselves prisoners, the asset would take whatever it was given, and for now Steve had to do the same.

Steve drank some of his own water and then set it on the floor while he turned his attention to the silver packages. Some sort of bland meal bar that might've been unappetizing if Steve hadn't been  _starving_.

He passed the other one to the asset, careful not to touch its hand. "Here, Soldier. Eat."

It wolfed the food down with such speed Steve wasn't sure it had chewed. It washed everything down with the last of its water. It shifted to its knees when Steve got up but when he only went back to the cardboard box by the door, it settled back down.

This time, Steve investigated the supplies they'd been given much more thoroughly. More food, a hell of a lot of lube, one roll of paper towels, the good kind, for scrubbing, and a smaller rectangular box inside a creased and torn blue and gold gift bag sporting cartoon fish and the words  _Happy Birthday Ashley!_  in silver marker scribbled over with black.

There wasn't an Ashley on the STRIKE team and Steve wasn't sure he wanted to know what was in the box. In his experience, HYDRA’s gifts tended to be things he didn't actually want any part of.

But whatever it was might be useful.

Steve slid his fingers under the lid of the box and warily eased it open. He took a moment to make sense of the contents and dropped the box back into the bag in disgust.

He'd been right to think he wanted no part of it. He wasn't one hundred percent positive he'd correctly identified everything but he couldn't imagine using any of it on the asset.

HYDRA was fucked up. Not that he'd ever had doubts.

...but they weren't  _meant_  to be HYDRA. Not now, not to Steve.

Maybe he could use that. Steve looked right into the camera over the door and shook his head, schooling his face into  _Captain America is Disappointed in You_. “I’m disappointed,” he enunciated. “I'd expect SHIELD to do better than this. A lot better.”

He didn’t expect it to work and after half a minute with no response, he considered it confirmed.

Skin shifted over skin as the asset balled itself up tighter and released a shuddering breath.

“Please,” it breathed. “N-n-no trouble.”

“Hey,” Steve soothed, taking the supplies with him. “No one’s in any trouble. I'm still here.” He set everything down and went to one knee in front of the asset.

“Look at me.” He was getting better at looking at it and not seeing Bucky. “What do you need, Soldier?”

Incredulous reproach bloomed and vanished in an instant, hidden behind a crumbling facade of blank confusion.

“Please, Steve. I need  _you_.”

Maybe it would have said more but with a hiss and a clang the door creaked open, revealing an impatient towel and magnetic cuff bearing STRIKE Commander with the rest of the team behind him, hands on their weapons.

"For fuck’s sake, Rogers! You're not on a date."

Steve glowered at him. "Believe me, I know."

"But you're right and we  _can_  do better. Get up and bring your stuff,” Rumlow snapped as Steve scrambled upright. “You too, Soldier. On your feet.” The asset followed. Stray ice chips fell to bounce across the concrete. “One of the permanent staff said we could use her room. Camera, but no mic. It's closer to medical if something goes wrong."

Steve didn't want to question it. “Thanks.” He knew the part about the audio surveillance had to be a lie.

Rumlow just looked irritated and tossed the cuffs to him. “Your right to the asset’s left. Figure you'll go after each other before anyone else that way.”

The asset offered its metal wrist. Disappointment washed through Steve when touching it brought none of the relief of touching skin. He scooped up and passed the package of water bottles to it, careful not to make direct contact with it, and picked up the box under his other arm.

"Ready when you are," he told their teammates who backed up to allow the supersoldiers to exit.

It wasn't a long walk, which was good because the combination of proximity and movement was driving him crazy.

The room they were taken to was a smoothly finished rectangle and about half the size of the first. The usual occupants desk, chair, and metal storage rack were sitting in the hallway outside, leaving only the bed and a small table next to it. The bed was stripped down to only the white and gray geometric patterned bottom sheet and a light blue pillow. The table was bare. Steve put the box on it. The asset did the same with the water.

Steve removed the cuffs and tossed them back to Rumlow.

Rumlow tossed the towel at the asset. “Dry yourself.”

It backed up to the far wall, away from the open door, and started rubbing at its hair.

“Thanks,” said Steve. “This is much better. We’ll try to leave the bed in one piece.”

"Better not try too hard," said Rumlow. “Your mission is to fuck the asset on that bed. Collateral damage is expected. Don't care what you break as long as you get your dick in its ass.”

Steve stared down at his bare toes and swallowed hard. “I… I will.”

He looked up to find Rumlow studying him. A glance back at the others and he said, voice low. "Look, Steve, I get that you don't want to do this. I respect that. But you can't let personal shit like that get in the way of doing what has to be done. Got it?"

Shivering, Steve nodded. "Yeah. I know.”

Rumlow examined him critically. Steve tried not to fidget under his scrutiny. All he wanted right then was to be left alone with the Winter Soldier to figure things out.

Waving the others back, Rumlow took a step closer to Steve. “Let me give you some advice. I don't want this to fuck with your head more than it’s gonna anyway. A warm hole is a warm hole. Don't matter how you think about that hole, it's gonna feel good. And the asset is something special. The first time I fucked the asset it was so good I thought maybe there was something wrong with me.  _Everyone_ has that experience and who the hell knows, maybe the asset was designed like that, it’s not like it's human. You're gonna enjoy yourself and that's normal, Steve, even if you’re not drugged. No one here’s gonna judge you for it.”

Steve forced himself to imagine a reality in which HYDRA no longer existed and Rumlow was someone he could trust. He took a deep shuddering breath and tried to relax a bit. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Brock."

“Good. Then I’ll say just one more thing to help and leave you to it.”

“What's that?”

An anticipatory smirk. "Asset. Take Captain Rogers to bed.”

Strong arms encircled him from behind, soothing his skin and warming him through as the asset tumbled them both onto the bed. Steve felt its hard cock against his back for a long delicious second before the asset somehow maneuvered him so he was sitting on its legs, staring down at it and gulping air like he'd been pulled from icy ocean.

For its part, the asset put its left hand behind its towel-dry head and smiled up at him like he was the only thing in the world. It  _hurt_.

But the way it shifted its thighs under his ass took his breath away and  _that_ wasn't pain at all.

Rumlow continued, “Neither of you are leaving until the Captain’s mission is complete and the drugs are out of your system. No cold feet. I'm authorizing Сценарий Z1 at your discretion, Soldier. Have fun, Cap!”

“What's…” Steve couldn't quite remember what Rumlow had said but it suddenly didn't seem so important anymore because the door closed and locked and he was alone in a bed with the Winter Soldier.

And it was smiling at him.


	44. Chapter 44

“This is good,” said the Winter Soldier. Its metal hand was behind its head but it brought its right up to touch Steve’s side right above the hip. “You n’me. Feels good.” It shifted its legs again and Steve’s entire body clenched tight with painful want. He breathed in through his nose and got a lungful of the salty-bitter tang of fresh sweat and precome and the sour-sweet hint of leather and blood that always clung to the Winter Soldier.

It wasn’t dripping ice water anymore. The drugs were trying to wring the moisture out of them again any way possible.

Steve swallowed saliva and tried to breathe through his mouth instead. “Yeah,” he said and had to swallow again. “You’re right.”  _That’s right_ , he thought and flinched at the echo of Rumlow’s voice.

He’d been trying to avoid thinking about or looking at their mutual erections but the asset performed a sort of shimmy and he suddenly found himself almost in its lap.

“Does it matter how we got here?” it murmured. Slowly, it pulled its hand away to lace both hands behind its head. “We’re here together  _now_. Please, Steve. You can have me. However you want me. I’m yours. It’s okay.”

Shaking his head, Steve put one hand over his mouth and fought a sudden urge to burst into tears. “You can’t… You wouldn’t want me if we weren’t drugged. It’s not your choice.” Every hint of pleasure or encouragement vanished from the asset’s face like an act hooked offstage. It regarded him for a moment with an absolutely blank face and then it scowled, eyebrows lowering and lips pressing together the way Bucky’s had when they were kids and he thought Steve was being dumb.

 _It’s not Bucky. Similar features produce similar expressions. Pull yourself together, Steve._  He shifted his weight off the asset and put his back against the wall. His eyes burned hot like his skin.

“Commander Rumlow said you could. It’s your mission. That makes it  _my_ mission. I’m your asset. I exist to help you complete missions. The mission is necessary. You know what’s best is we comply.” The asset’s face crumpled into misery. “I’m  _happy_ to comply. But… you’re unhappy.”

Steve swallowed again and not because his mouth was watering. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We’ll both  _stop_ hurting if you fuck me. I don’t understand you at all.”

“It’s a different kinda hurt.”

The asset sat up and drew its legs to its chest again. Its shoulders were so tight the muscles shook. “Do you… do you hate me for having his face?” came the despairing whisper.

That shocked him. The question was like a slap. Did he? He hated that HYDRA could and did use the asset’s appearance against him. He hated the implications of the asset’s face.

He didn’t think he hated the asset itself. It hadn’t chosen to look like Bucky. It hadn’t  _stolen_  his face. It had obeyed Steve’s wishes and stopped offering itself as a replacement.

Steve had been quiet too long.

“You don’t hafta look at me, Captain,” the asset whispered in defeat. Its head was so low Steve could only see the top of its damp mop. “I can do anything you want. Please, how can I please you better?”

 _Captain_. He didn’t want it to call him Captain. Steve shuddered. He rubbed at his eyes and found his face was wet with more than sweat.

“I don’t hate you. I…” He hesitated. He had a mission, not to fuck the asset like Rumlow said but to infiltrate HYDRA while doing the least harm. Whatever orders it was under, he could do worse than to take it at its word. “How about this: I want you to call me Steve and tell me how to please  _you_.”

It raised its head a little, peering at him through a screen of hair. “Steve. I don’t understand.”

“What makes you feel good?”

He heard it swallow. “Completing missions 'n pleasing you.”

A safe answer but not what Steve needed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Grab us a couple bottles of water,” he said and the asset obeyed instantly, passing one to him without touching his fingers or meeting his eyes. “We’ll re-hydrate a little while you think about it.”

The asset drank about two thirds of its water before Steve even got the cap off his. It glared down at the patterned sheet while crinkling the bottle in its hands. "I was made to want two things, Steve. To be a good asset or to be James Barnes. You don't wan' me to be Bucky ‘n ya don't want me to be a good asset. I can't resolve your conflict.”

Laid out like that, Steve felt even shittier.

"Jesus Christ, Steve. Do you want to fail this mission? You're an awful handler. Ya tell me I can't want things and then turn around and make me tell ya what I want. I know you're supposed ta be Captain America but I think you're takin’ it too far. Please fuck me. I don' care if you're awful at this. You're still the best I remember. I don' wan’em ta take ya away."

It was right. He was a terrible handler and the Winter Soldier shouldn't have to deal with his personal issues. Steve opened his mouth to apologize but what slipped out had to be the most asshole-ish question of his life. "You always start to sound Brooklyn when you're upset? Shit. That’s not. I mean,  _fuck_ , I-”

The asset growled. The frustrated noise went right to Steve's heart as much as his aching groin.

"Please. I need you. I need you inside me, Steve. Use me like I'm meant to be used. Ya with me? Stop worryin' about everyone else for once in your life. I'll feel so good around you, you know I will. I was made for this, Steve. Made for you. You don't even gotta prep me. Did that already before they broughtcha in. All you gotta do is push right in and make my body take you. Make  _me_ take you."

Steve stared. "Your dirty talk has really improved."  _What the fuck is wrong with me?_  His mouth was dry again. Mechanically, he took another sip of water, capped it, and dropped the bottle over the edge of the bed.

With a noise that was part hysterical laugh and part sob, the asset set its own much abused water bottle on the bedside table with enough force the contents sloshed violently. The asset ran its hands over its face and then up to clutch at its hair.

The look it gave him was pure Bucky-Barnes-at-his-wit's-end. "Ya want me to like it. You wan'me to want ya. Ya say I can't. The hell happened to takin' care a'me? Make up your goddamn mind, Steve. I told ya I want  _you_ to want  _me,_ right? Whaddaya think I'd want if I was the real Bucky, anyway, huh? Better you than a lineup of strangers, pal, 'n that's what we're both in for if you don't comply.

“C'mon. You with me? I don't wanna have to use Zоди́н when ya don' want it but I can't letcha fail this mission. Good supersoldiers comply, bad supersoldiers get punished ‘n put away in ice. Haven'tcha had enough time in the cold, Stevie? Won’tcha let me keep ya warm?"

Whiplash followed by a kick to the chest.  _Mission. Good supersoldiers comply_. But then,  _Better you than a lineup, pal_  and  _Stevie_  and  _keep ya warm._

"I'm fucking this up. Everything I do makes things worse." Steve took a breath, let it out, and met tortured Bucky-blue eyes. "If you were in charge, what would you do first?"

"Permission to touch?"

Steve nodded. "Granted." He half expected it to go for him the way it had in the hallway when it had torn his uniform off. Instead, the asset slowly stretched its legs out and then pulled itself forward to put its arms around him and pull itself into his lap, straddling him. Touching it was like taking a bath at just the right temperature. His skin was warm on the outside and he was no longer burning from within.

Steve closed his eyes and released a long shuddering breath. It was sitting almost directly on his cock. "Now what?" he breathed. He had some ideas but his mind was running in sluggish panicked circles. He opened his eyes.

The asset gave him a ghost of the flirty smile he remembered from way back at the Lockbox. "The Commander's orders were explicit."

Yeah, they had been and Steve balled his fists and tried to breathe as he scrabbled for the shreds of his control.

“You're so stiff. Jesus, Steve. Just because ya can fight somethin’ doesn't mean ya  _have to._ ”

"Never was good at quittin’," Steve admitted.

“Dumb punk.” But the words were soft and fond, like...

_Don't think about it._

“Now, if I was in charge, I'd tell ya to put your hands on me.”

Steve did, feeling the strength of abdominal muscles under skin. There was a hitch in both their breathing. “Done,” he said shakily and unnecessarily. “Next?”

“We take the edge off.”

Hands pulled them close and then warm fingers wrapped his cock. He inhaled sharply. “Wait,” he said, and moved a hand to return the favor.

There was a gasp and a sweaty forehead pressed to his shoulder. “Please.”

“Together.”

It didn’t take more than a few strokes for either of them.


	45. Chapter 45

Orgasm brought just enough clarity that Steve made a thoughtless attempt to pull away.

Bucky surged forward to follow him. " _No!_ "

Steve's back hit the bed and Bucky crawled up him to pin him against the sheet. The pinch between his eyes and the twist of his face told Steve he wasn't just worried and frustrated, he was angry and terrified.

It wasn't the first time Bucky had turned that look on him but it really cut now. "Please, please, Steve," he said.

Steve flinched, knowing something was wrong. They couldn't be doing this. Steve… didn't want to. Not like…

"What the hell is wrong with you," Bucky snarled, pressing him down.

"I… We..." Steve just shook his head in denial.

The face glaring at him went terrifyingly blank and then the rage came back, mixed with horror and sad understanding. Bucky sighed, swept a hand over his face, and then bent close to Steve's ear. "Steve, listen to me."

Steve nodded. He couldn't quite catch his breath. They were still touching, all over, Bucky’s weight on him and it was so good but they _couldn’t_ and why was Bucky...

"You gotta stop panickin’, pal. Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Please. You're hurtin' botha us."

"But…Buck …" He closed his eyes but he felt more out of control than less and opened them again immediately.

The small hurt noise Bucky made went straight to his heart like a knife.

Again, there was an instant of horrible blankness as Bucky pulled back to look him in the face but then he put his lips almost to Steve's ear and said, "Steve. You trust me, right?"

"Yeah, of course, but…"

Bucky shushed him firmly. "I know you, Steve. You're doin' what you always do n' I won't have it. Not now. You can tell yourself you're tryin' to protect me all you want, but the truth is, you're the one who really doesn't want to be in here with me. You're scared. You're not in control here. You don't have to feel guilty about this. You want to pretend you're responsible because you don't want to admit the truth. We were drugged together, we're locked in here together, and neither of us will get outa here without you fuckin' me."

Steve shook his head again.

"Please, Stevie, we don't have a choice. You don't have a choice. It's okay.  _I'm_  okay. This isn't your fault." He swallowed. "But you know what  _will_ be your fault? Resisting n' gettin' us both hurt."

"Bucky," Steve protested.

"Steve,  _no_ , no, listen, you  _know_ what’s best. What's best is we comply. We gotta comply.  _You_  gotta comply. It's the only way."

 _Comply_  rang a faint wrong note in Steve's head. He frowned.

"Please. You're so good. They'll take you away. You can't let that happen. I need you.  _Steve!_ " Bucky started to cry, big tears that he had to blink out of his eyes. They fell to sting Steve’s naked chest. "They'll take you and recondition you..."

 _Recondition_ rang another wrong note.

"...and maybe freeze you again and… and…" Bucky sat up and covered his face with both hands.

One of them was silver.

Steve blinked and saw that his arm was metal all the way up to his hunched shoulders and suddenly he was looking at the Winter Soldier.

He was hurting it again. He’d been trying not to do that. He didn’t think he’d ever had so much trouble following through on any decision in his life.

Steve licked his lips. They were dry again. He didn't care. "Hey," he said softly as he sat up. He put his hands on the asset's shoulders. "I'm sorry, you're right. I'm..."

“Are you ready to comply, Steve?” whispered the Winter Soldier.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “But…”

Bucky, no,  _the asset_ , kissed him, a wet, desperate act that nearly melted Steve’s brain and left his whole body trembling.

_...but I know what you’re doing._

The asset pulled away. “No buts, Steve. No cold feet.”

It wasn’t Bucky.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t old enough to be Bucky.

“Here, like this, Steve. Let me do all the work. Please?”

Steve nodded and closed his eyes, trying to keep his head. “How can I help?”

The Winter Soldier had no scars corresponding to injuries Steve knew Bucky had taken with the Commandos.

“I don’t need more prep, but maybe  _you_ do. You’re still so tense. Wan’ me to grab more lube?”

“Yeah, that’s, ah, a good idea,” Steve said, letting his mouth run on automatic. He wanted to add a name to that but it felt wrong to say it now that Steve wasn’t confused anymore.

The Winter Soldier had studied Bucky to be able to pass as him.

The asset twisted soothly in Steve’s lap, leaving Steve to gasp, and grabbed for a flap of the cardboard box. It tilted the box and snatched one of the bottles of lube before the box could fall back onto the table.

“You really won’t hurt me,” the asset assured him. It poured lube over its right hand and shifted so it straddled Steve taller. “I won’t let you, promise.” It raised its body enough to reach behind itself and stabilized the position with its left arm on the wall while its right...

The Winter Soldier hadn’t recognized Steve the first several times they’d met. It had identified him, but it hadn’t known him.

“Put your hands on me,” said the asset and Steve obeyed, settling them on its hips.

“Like this?”

“Lower,” the asset told him. “Pull me to you and spread me open.”

The Winter Soldier’s muscles felt different than Bucky’s had, like they were made of steel cables and not flesh and blood.

_Higher muscle density, like the serum gave me._

There wasn’t much cushion on the glutes in Steve’s hand, but they parted as he cupped them and gently pulled.

The asset made a quiet percussive noise and groaned, arching into him.

He tried to think about not leaving finger bruises and every accidental touch of their wrists and not about the blood-hot cock pressed against his chest or the way Steve’s own hardness brushed against the inside of those powerful thighs, leaving wet smears.

The Winter Soldier was…

He couldn’t think of any other evidence at that moment, but it  _wasn’t_ Bucky.

But the Winter Soldier  _wanted_ to be Bucky and maybe Natasha had been right months ago and it didn’t matter.

“Four… fingers, Steve,” the asset choked out and pressed its face into the side of Steve’s shoulder. “Enough? Please?”

Steve swallowed and pulled in a deep breath through his nose. “Okay,” he said, exhaling slowly.

They were really doing this.

A lube-slick hand groped for Steve’s cock, capturing, slicking, and holding it as the asset shifted over him. He nearly went off right then and there.

“Ready?” the asset whispered.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve said.

The asset dropped its metal hand from the wall, snaking it around Steve’s upper back and using it as an anchor point as it pulled back to look at him, frowning, eyebrows raised.

It was a classic  _You gotta be kidding me_  and Steve nearly bit a chunk out of his cheek in startlement.

“Yes, alright? I’m ready. Let’s do this,” he said, unable to take that look a second longer. “Get me in ya already, geez.”

The Winter Soldier shook its head at him, looked down, and then looked back up and met his eyes. “Okay, Steve,” it said, smiling that small smile that was all its own. “If that’s really what you want.”

It was lucky notto be Bucky right then because Steve would have maybe punched him for that.

Steve struggled to keep breathing as hot slick softness touched the head of his cock. He hissed in through his teeth and that small smile grew.


	46. Chapter 46

The asset knew exactly what it was doing. “Hey, hey, eyes on me, pal,” it murmured to him.

Barely able to think past the shock of the tip of his cock pressing into hot slick muscle, Steve nodded without losing eye contact. It wasn’t quite like a woman, smoother, less giving even he’d pressed past the ring of muscle that even after four fingers of preparation offered slight resistance.

“You can let go now, Steve,” it whispered. “Feel that? You're _inside_ me.”

Steve considered that through the competing lava flows constituting too much of his brain. “Oh,” he said dumbly and flexed his fingers on its ass. If he let go, he wouldn't know what to do with his hands.

The asset caught its breath and clenched around the head of Steve’s cock. It exhaled, slowly relaxing while Steve was unable to make himself move at all. Then it began to sink farther down and Steve let it, keeping his hands where they were but allowing his arms loose to move with it.

He couldn’t feel anything but this. The only thing he could compare it to was that first time the asset had swallowed his cock. This experience was just as unreal. Was it because it was the first time or due to the drugs in his system?

The USO girls who had pulled him into bed had been fun and more than happy to educate him in how to please a woman. He didn't remember it being intense the way this was. He'd never felt anything quite like it.

“Hey, keep breathing. Stay here,” said the asset. It had stopped moving. “Take a deep breath and clear your mind, pal. You gotta remember this for me, alright? Unless ya do somethin’  _really_  wrong, we only get one first time.”

Steve blinked at it.  _What?_ “I… I don't…”

It pulled Steve in until his head hit its right clavicle. Then it sighed into his hair as it slid down and took him in the rest of the way.

There was a moment of absolute silence.

“Wow,” Steve exhaled unsteadily, trying to process it. The way the air moved over his sweaty chest didn't help one bit.

The asset chuckled. “Take your time. Jus’ lemme know when I can start movin’?”

“Shouldn't  _I_  be the one sayin’ that?” Steve asked.

It flexed around him. “Not this time, punk.”

Steve's breath hitched. He squeezed his eyes closed and breathed through the abrupt wave of grief.

 _It's not Bucky_.

But it was trying to take care of him the way Bucky might have.

That, or it was acting according to whatever Rumlow had authorized.

Either way, it was getting easier to think and Steve didn't  _want_ to. He'd fuck up again if he could think. He swallowed hard. “You can move,” he said. “Please.”

It nodded but it didn't raise itself the way he'd expected. Instead it rocked forward for the same result and mouthed something against his neck as his cock dragged half-out of the snug grasp of slick-smooth heat and then smoothly back. Steve's entire body jerked. Waves of sparks and tingles spread from where they connected. It repeated the motion, holding him close with the metal arm on his back.

“Please, Steve,” it groaned into his neck, moving again. “Touch?”

“Y-yeah,” Steve agreed. He would have agreed to anything it asked at that moment.

The asset’s other hand made a reappearance and Steve learned his nipples could actually get hard enough to hurt as that hand brushed over them.

“Gonna…” it gasped, rocking back down on him, maddeningly slow. “Please?”

Again, Steve agreed to whatever it wanted.

Next he knew, there was come streaking him from his abs up to his chin and his skin felt like the trailing ends of golden fireworks.

He couldn't thrust up much because the asset kept him down with its thighs but his hips jerked independent of his brain. His head went back, his eyes rolled up in his head, his back arched and the fireworks went off inside his brain too. “ _Soldier_ ,” he tried to say but he'd never been too good at knowing this moment in this body so he might have said it after instead.

The asset’s continuing motion faltered for an instant but then both its hands, metal and flesh, were pressing against Steve’s shoulders to push him flat. It looked down at him, utterly unreadable apart from familiarly troubled blue eyes. And then it pressed its lips together, sucked them back against its teeth, closed its eyes, sighed, opened its eyes, and continued to move over him, faster than before, newly slick with the evidence of Steve's climax.

Steve didn’t know if he’d done something right or something wrong. He was afraid of what he’d seen in those eyes.

He closed his own, took a deep breath, and did his best to clear his mind of anything except the physical sensations.


	47. Chapter 47

They fucked through a few more orgasms in that position until the sensation from Steve's cock was more pain than pleasure and the asset's legs grew shaky. It too was over-sensitive, emitting quiet whimpers and small bitten-back sounds of pain each time it was touched.

Both of them remained  _painfully_  hard but they needed a break as the discomfort became impossible to ignore. Even coming felt like less of a full release than a brief twist of a pressure valve.

Semen on skin was every bit as good as it had been since they’d been rutting on the floor together.

Good, but even the pleasure hurt now.

"Stop," Steve ordered, chest heaving as he panted for air.

A push against the asset's side and a tug on its hair in the direction he wanted it to go and it pulled itself off his cock, loose and easy now, to topple over on the bed at Steve's side. He kissed its forehead without a thought, sat up, and struggled to his knees so he could reach for the bedside table. Instead of trying to grab the box or the water bottles from the table, he simply grabbed the edge of the table and dragged it closer to make everything more easily accessible.

He ran a hand down the asset's muscled back, feeling the new tension and knots. It started to raise its head.

"We're not done," it whispered and he could hear the dryness of its throat in its voice.

"No," he agreed, combing out its hair with his fingers, "but we need a break. My turn to take care of you for a bit."

"Mmmm," it said, laying its cheek on the sweat dampened sheet and stretching its legs out, flexing and relaxing before it twisted on its side and propped itself up on its elbows.

Steve patted its right shoulder and turned to their supplies.

Water for each of them and then he fed the asset first, pieces of the bland meal bars by hand. The noises it made as its tongue flicked over his fingers were far more obscene than any it had made while they had been fucking.

Teeth dragged over the pads of his fingers as the asset made direct eye contact. It licked its lips and offered him the ghost of one of Bucky’s lopsided smiles.

He shivered and turned away to fish out and tear open another silver package.

Two meal bars and the better part of a bottle of water each and Steve could no longer feel his body trying to eat itself.

The asset nuzzled his shoulder and left him gasping. It was like the blood under his skin was carbonated.

A cautious caress of more intimate areas had him hissing in a breath. No, it was still too much, too soon to touch again. His cock was an angry red but it was easier to cope with the sensation as it was than try to deal with it. The serum would heal them if they waited. They were well enough supplied that they weren't in any real danger, not like before.

At least they'd been left alone so far, camera aside.

Fuck, the  _camera._  Steve tried to think back. Had he done anything to give himself away? Had he done anything, anything  _more than delay fucking it until its body started shutting down_ , to prove himself an unfit handler?

He didn’t think so, but it was hard to say when he was so… distracted.

He'd confused the asset for Bucky, but he was reasonably certain it had  _wanted_  him to.

And now his earlier suspicion came back to him.

“Soldier?”

Its expression froze and dissolved into blank alertness.

_It was programmed with a bunch of scenarios and some of them involve killing people who say the wrong thing._

“Steve,” it said.

Did he really want to take the risk of asking?

“Z1 is part of the Barnes Protocols, isn’t it,” he said, careful to keep his intonation from rising.

The response was instant.

“Yes,” confirmed the Winter Soldier.

“Can you give me any details?”

“Commander Rumlow ordered me to use my discretion to attempt to manipulate you by simulating Barnes’s behavior but without claiming to  _be_ him. My assessment was that you wanted the comfort of a friend.”

Steve sighed, chest clenching in helpless disappointment. “Good assessment.”

“You don’t want me to be Bucky. But you want a friend. Becoming that friend was critical to mission success.” It didn’t look at him but it didn’t look away either.

"Well, it worked. Bucky was the only person who ever could try to talk sense into me."

The asset fiddled with the lid of its new water bottle. "You give him this much trouble too?"

It put a hand on his bare thigh. The cautious touch was like the fizzy candy Clint had insisted he try back when it had been safe for them to openly spend time together. Pop rocks. Steve missed Clint something awful. He never saw anyone without an agenda these days. Natasha felt like his only friend and all their time together was spent focused on the mission.

No surprise the Winter Soldier was all about the mission too. They weren’t even friends. They couldn't be. He didn’t know why he’d expected anything else but bitter disappointment stung.

The asset was still waiting for an answer.

Steve laughed, the bitterness in him bleeding through with the rest of the pain. "You got no idea. We'd have the worst fights, worse when we lived together. Loved him to pieces, but sometimes I thought that might mean literal pieces. Looking back, I'm not sure how we made it as long as we did with no more than a broken nose or two." Somehow it didn't hurt quite as badly to think of Bucky now. It hurt not to hurt so much. Steve felt like the worst of traitors for letting himself be comforted.

 _What do you think Bucky would think of my conduct today, Soldier?_  It was on the tip of his tongue. He could feel the asset’s eyes on him.

He didn’t ask.

“Do you need more water?”

It shook its head and offered him that same small smile.

“We’re not done,” Steve told it, “but I’m not ready to start again.”

Bucky-blue eyes traveled the length of Steve’s exposed body. “Just tell me how you want me.”

“What’s easiest on you?” Steve asked, afraid he was pushing it too far. “I don’t want to wear you out.”

Closing its eyes briefly, it shook its head a little and smiled. “Will you fuck me again?”

He’d already resigned himself to needing to, much as he would have like to offer the reverse.

Touching did make things easier. He was a little afraid of extending the break too long and losing his nerve. “Yeah,” he said. “But you’re the one with experience, so tell me the best way for you.”

It considered. “I suggest you fuck me over the edge of the bed with a hand over my mouth.”

Steve frowned. “That’s very specific.”

“I’m very easily handled in that position, Steve,” it told him.

_...likes a hand over its mouth while it’s got a cock in its ass. Calms it right down… totally pliant._

Steve tried not to think of reasons the asset might want that, if it wanted it at all.

He palmed his cock. It wasn’t as sore now, the serum doing its work.

Steve tried not to think of reasons.

“Then we’ll do that,” he said.

Steve tried not to think.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all new since I originally skipped over the end of the sex pollen on Dreamwidth.

Over the edge of the bed wasn’t quite like Steve had imagined.

“This way first,” it said, not quite meeting his eyes as it slid its ass to the edge of the bed and spread its raised knees. “Please, Captain.”

Standing on the cold floor with slightly shaky legs, he said, “Steve. As long as we’re here, it’s _Steve._ ” He couldn’t quite meet its eyes either as he stepped in to let it wrap its legs around him and guided himself back into the hot relief of its body.

“Steve,” said the asset, reaching for his shoulder and pulling him close. Into his shoulder, at a volume only they could have heard over the sound of their bodies moving together, it said, “I know about you. Before you joined the army. You went from a body always in pain to the horrors of the second world war. You know pain. You’ve known pain for a long time.”

Where was it going with this? Steve swallowed, eyes hot with the urge to cry. Why did it have to be the Winter Soldier with him at this moment? “Yeah,” he said roughly, slowing his hips.

The asset crushed them together again, squeezing him around the waist with its powerful legs. “It’s okay, Steve. Bein' used to pain doesn’t make feelin’ pleasure a sin. Gotta take it when you can get it.”

Would Bucky have ever said that? Maybe. He’d been good at making the best of things.

The pleasure wasn't the sin Steve knew he was committing here, but he'd only distress the asset if he tried to explain again.

“I don’t deserve you, Soldier.” Steve kissed the asset’s forehead again. “But thank you.”

They only did it once in that position, one of Steve’s hands on its hip and the other over its mouth. The asset closed its eyes and let him move it, right hand loose on its own erection until it couldn’t hold back the muffled pleas and Steve told it to come. _Fuck_ it was beautiful. He shouldn’t let himself think of it like that but it was and he ached to tell it or, better, worse, to draw it and show it what he saw. 

Steve was relieved when it pulled away and turned over. From the back, it looked more like itself and less like Bucky, whatever sense that made, and he could make himself really get to work fucking it while it panted hot against his fingers and pushed back against him any time he tried to go easier. He felt like a monster but with the asset acting so enthusiastic it was hard to remember how wrong this all was.

In the end, the bed did turn out to be collateral damage. The outside bottom leg collapsed, dropping about six inches and sending the supersoldiers sliding unexpectedly toward the end of the bed and the floor.

For an instant, the asset looked tense and scared but Steve ran a hand down its spine as he ground into it and kissed it on the back of its shoulder before whispering, "It's okay, Soldier. We knew this might happen. And it's on me. Got it?"

"Thank you, Steve," it said, a little breathless as he pulled away.

It slid off the end of the bed to its knees on the floor while Steve lifted the box spring and mattress together and put them on the floor next to the broken frame. The result was only six inches shorter and much more stable, as demonstrated by the way it didn’t sway when the asset scrambled back into its place in the center of the mattress, looking anxiously over its shoulder at him as it lowered its feet to the floor and resumed its position.

"It's okay, Soldier," he repeated. "I’m with you. We’re here together." He squeezed the muscle at the junction of its right shoulder and neck and the asset groaned and arched its back, clenching its ass and pushing against him as he slid his hand up its throat to cover its mouth again. It relaxed immediately.

Steve fucked into it as slowly as he could make himself, trying to get the angle right to make it cry out again and wash away the fear with pleasure. Steve was pretty damn good with angles but he hadn't had much practice at this skill.

Puffs of air tickled his hand as the asset panted but it barely made any sound, leaving everything to Steve.

He picked up the tempo, forcing it to rub against the bed ( _“Please, Steve!”_ ) until it ( _“Yes, yes.”_ ) came and the hot clench on his cock had him spilling his climax inside it again. They were messy, the bed was messy. Everything was still so much hotter than it should be. They had paper towels but trying to clean up seemed like a waste of energy when they weren’t finished. He'd lost track of how many orgasms they'd had now.

But it was gradually easier to think.

"I think it's starting to wear off," Steve told the asset. He took his hand off its face.

It nodded, boneless and pliant under his touch but flexing around him, wet and sloppy and too good. “Not done?” it suggested cautiously, sounding almost _greedy._

"No, we're not done," he assured it. "Do you need a break?"

It shook its head.

"Okay," Steve said and eased most of the way out of it before slamming back in, balls slapping against it.

They were less desperate about it now and still the pleasure left them both gasping and shaky.

By the time they took another break for food and drink, the chemical-induced urgency had finally dissipated. Skin still slightly sensitive, they fit themselves together on the filthy wet mattress and slept.


	49. Chapter 49

“The things the asset  _said_ ,” Steve agonized. “Everything, crafted to make me think of Bucky. The nicknames, the understanding of my habits, even the admission that it was all lies. Every bit of it was what I  _needed_  to hear. How is that possible?”

Natasha Romanoff had been very quiet while Steve had given her the rundown of the mission. He appreciated the lack of any attempt to comfort him. He didn’t deserve it.

He would have paced while waiting but he didn’t dare move away from the sink in case he was sick again. He hadn’t been sick for several missions now, but this had done it. He felt even more sick because of how little his latest crimes had bothered him after they’d been declared free of influence and returned to DC.

All reminders that he’d had as little choice as the Winter Soldier, and _both_ Rumlow and Romanoff had kept insisting that was true no matter how Steve felt, did nothing to assuage his new guilt. The guilt was only intensified by the way he had begun dreaming about Bucky afterwards. Steve knew the asset wasn’t Bucky, _except in all the ways he didn’t know that all anymore_ , but they’d become confused in some part of his dreaming mind until he was reaching for the Winter Soldier on the train and pushing Bucky down in the shower after a SHIELD mission or rescuing the asset from Zola’s table in the factory and watching Bucky stride toward a target with an RPG in his hands.

“The brain plays tricks,” she said. “Consider this: When you’re in a foreign country, it’s easy to pick up on any hint of your own language spoken around you even when you’re not listening for it. You’ll also try to match familiar combinations of sounds together and interpret them as something you understand. Steve, it  _could_ be only that. You wanted Bucky and the Winter Soldier gave you enough matching input that you could extrapolate the rest from there.”

Steve stared at a few drops of water on the silver ring of the drain without really seeing it. “I think that’s what the asset was trying to explain. I just don’t know if I can buy it. As far as I know, none of the literature on our relationship includes Bucky calling me  _Stevie._  Doesn’t that mean anything?”

She sighed. “Not necessarily. You were a symbol, Steve, and a military asset. Information was suppressed. Why do you think there are so few interviews with the Commandos referenced in your biographies? But it wouldn’t have been difficult to send someone to interview the rest of your team or even the Barnes family under the auspices of the SSR or SHIELD. There are many ways to elicit information without the subject realizing they’re being interrogated. A handful of stories about how you and Bucky interacted in private and…” Lightly resting a hand on his upper back, she said, “I’ve done as much with less. I’m sorry, Steve.”

He swallowed down bile. “I get the picture, Natasha,” he said. “But what if…”

The understanding in her sad smile cut deeply. “What’s actually changed, Steve?”

Answering that was hard. “Nothing. All that’s different from when I went to to you and Fury is how familiar I am with the asset now. The asset won’t even remember what happened the next time we see each other, if the pattern holds.”

Natasha nodded. “If continuing to believe the Winter Soldier was never the real Barnes makes the mission easier for you, let yourself. It makes no difference to the Winter Soldier and might help you stay out of trouble.”

Frowning unhappily, Steve repeated her earlier advice. “Let myself fall into their patterns and believe as they do. Everything is a test.”

“You realize they’re using the asset to distract you from asking about anything else? The Winter Soldier is one of them. You don’t know what it knows or what its orders are. Deliberate inconsistency, creating confusion and uncertainty... These are well within its skillset. They’re certainly within the skill sets of the STRIKE agents.”

Steve blew out a heavy breath. “Yeah. It’s hard to try to stay objective but I know.”

Turning him to face her, she said, “And that’s why I’m here, Steve. To help you with that. So let’s go over the rest one more time. The Winter Soldier said  _put away in ice_ and  _freeze again_. Those words.”

“Yeah. I don’t know how much of a briefing it had on what happened to me, but it was really concerned that I’d be punished and it sounded to me like it was worried about what it understands to be the standard treatment of supersoldiers.”

A grimace. “That’s worrying. Not only does that imply multiple supersoldiers may still exist, but that you may not have been the only one preserved in ice, even if the others are unstable. And that… suggests a number of potential scenarios, if they have a successful cryo program with a freeze/thaw process safe enough to also be used for punishment. Fury needs to know.”

 _And it means the asset_ could  _be old enough to…_  He tried to shake the thought, like he’d been trying to for the last two days.  _The asset could be as old as I am… or a year older._

It  _couldn’t_ be him.

“There’s also, ah…” Steve couldn’t help the blush, though he was glad to be discussing his reluctant and unconventional sex life with Natasha instead of anyone else. She was as professional and unflustered about it as she was about the rest of what he had to report and he couldn’t imagine talking to anyone else about it. “The asset said I had to remember because we’d only have one first time unless I  _really fucked up_. I’ve suspected for a while now that the asset’s memory loss isn’t natural, it’s something that’s regularly done to it. It gets confused sometimes on missions but it doesn’t forget the mission.”

Natasha was quiet. “The Red Room had ways of manipulating memories but not like you’re describing.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “I can see what I can dig up without tripping any alarms.”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t tell me. I need to be surprised if I learn more from HYDRA.”

She appraised him. “You’re getting the hang of this but try not to think about it too much. It would be natural for you to ask some questions. Go see Pierce if you think you’re up to it. I’m interested to hear his justifications. You’re too high profile for them to vanish, though what you say about Rumlow’s behavior does worry me.”

“Not as much as it does me. I still think they’d rather recruit me for real. If they have that much information on me, they have to know how bad I am at following orders I can’t agree with. I’d make a terrible Winter Soldier, Rumlow even said so.”

“No, you said he told you  _you’re not as well trained as the other one_. Maybe they  _intend_ to train you, use your work with the Winter Soldier to normalize your behavior according to HYDRA standards. Rumlow isn’t your SO, but he’s...”

Shaken by the whole experience as he was, it was hard to be as afraid now as he had been while restrained and drugged on a table in a HYDRA facility. “He’s trying to be my handler,” Steve finished for her. “Good thing I have another one I can actually trust.” He fished up a smile for her. “Don’t worry, Agent Romanoff, I’ll do my best not to be brainwashed.”

She smiled back and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “See that you do, Agent Rogers,” she said. “Now, are you going to eat something on your way home or do I need to sent Clint to your place with a stack of pizzas? It would be reasonable for one of us to reach out since you’ve been avoiding us outside missions for a while.”

He hesitated. He missed having company and Barton’s would be a refreshing change. All the same, he didn’t deserve the kindness and he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to maintain his facade in his thoroughly surveilled apartment if anyone came over. He didn’t know how much Clint knew, beyond the fact that he was trying to get close to his STRIKE team, but…

An idea occurred to him. “Or... I could... call Rumlow,” he said slowly. “I could invite him for dinner and ask his advice about talking to Pierce.” An outline of a plan was forming. He felt better already.

“Or you could do that,” Natasha agreed, pausing in checking her mask in the bathroom mirror. She sounded only mildly surprised. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself too, Steve. I mean it. Take your breaks when you can. When did you last visit Peggy?”

He looked away, hands in his pockets. “I’ll go later this week.”

Her arms slipped themselves under his arms and around his chest to hug him until he gave in and hugged back. “Be careful, Steve. And be kind to yourself. If you need Stark to kidnap you for a few days in Malibu, just say the word. He’d be delighted, if only to annoy Fury.” She released him with a slight tug to the corners of her mouth but her eyes were shadowed with concern.

“Yeah, thanks, Natasha.”  _But if I take a break maybe I don’t get back up again in time and this needs doing. I’ll push through._ “But I can do this.”


	50. Chapter 50

"So where's the fire, Cap?"

Steve held the door out-of-the-way as Rumlow carried a precarious armful of takeout into Steve's apartment. He'd promised to bring Italian and the savory scents wafting from the boxes and bags had Steve's mouth watering. It was a lot of food, but he’d hardly eaten since the mission. Steve closed the door, relieved Rumlow of part of his burden and deposited it on the coffee table between the couch and the fireplace.

When everything had been set down safely Rumlow looked him up and down and added, "Because you don't look like you're bleeding to death and, far as I know, nobody's died. We don't have a mission. You're supposed to be taking time off for your health…"

Steve snorted a little at that.

"Yeah, I know, serum blah blah blah. But you gotta admit, the last mission was hard on you, Steve."

Steve set his jaw. Maybe this was a mistake. “I'm… fine.”

Rumlow laughed. “You're a terrible liar, Cap. You know, I was really worried about you for a while there. Took you long enough to get the job done. You, Rogers, have to be the most stubborn man I've ever met. And you have a problem with admitting when you're wrong. So how’d you do it? Close your eyes and think of America? Or maybe that chick you've been sneaking around with in museum bathrooms?"

"What?" Steve went cold all through.

"Don't play dumb, Rogers. You know SHIELD keeps tabs on you. We worry about you."

“But… I thought we were being careful,” Steve protested, desperately hoping he could carry off Nat, no  _Romanoff’s_ , instructions for this contingency.

"Yeah, sorry, buddy, but you’re not really suited to playing covert agent.”

He about had a heart attack at Rumlow’s word choice.  _Don’t think about it. Stick to the plan._

“Wasn't too hard. You got a pattern. We get back from mission, you stay in and mostly sleep. Next day, maybe you go grocery shopping or do some laundry. Then you're off to a museum for a hush-hush hook up."

He wasn't sure if he should be more horrified or embarrassed or angry at the blatant invasion of privacy. Then again, he'd forfeited a lot of his right to privacy by first joining the army and then taking the super serum.

"I guess I should've known better than to think SHIELD wouldn't find out. Is it even worth questioning how  _you specifically_  know all that?"

“Nah, not really.” Rumlow shook his head. He seemed pleased. "Why all the secrecy, anyway?"

"Is it so unreasonable that I might want some privacy, Rumlow?"

"Please, Steve," scoffed Rumlow, "you're hooking up in public restrooms. Don't pretend there's some big romance. What, is she married?"

Steve glowered. "Of course not. She's..." He couldn't make eye contact.

“A senator? Judge? Call girl?” The HYDRA agent was enjoying himself.

"Worse …a fan." He could only hope Rumlow was buying it.

"No kidding?" Both of Rumlow's eyebrows went up as he opened a white paper bag of fresh bread.

Past experience had taught Steve he wasn't good at blushing or crying on command but that was okay this time. He knew exactly what to think about that would make him respond like that in this specific situation. "Turns out I'm a fetish," he mumbled and felt his face heat.

"You think you know a guy…" Rumlow trailed off with a grin and bit viciously into a piece of bread.

They ate in silence for a while. “I’d question how you even knew what a fetish is, but I  _was_ watching that feed. You’re no saint.”

“Oh,  _God_ , Brock. Don't remind me,” Steve groaned, dropping his plastic fork back into the foil container of manicotti he’d been trying to eat. His appetite was gone. He put it back on the coffee table and covered his face with his hands, hoping he looked embarrassed but not sick. “I still don’t feel right.”

"Steve," said Rumlow, hovering a hand over Steve's shoulder until Steve shifted away. "You're not experiencing effects again are you? Some drugs can cause flashbacks of the effects or maybe the active compounds haven't been fully metabolized or were converted into something with the same effect. I mean it, Steve, if you need a little help..."

What the fuck was Rumlow playing at?

"... you know, lots of guys would make an exception for Captain America..."

"Because I'm a fetish?" Steve demanded, shuddering a little.

"...or because you're Steve Rogers, and a good friend and teammate."

_And you're a pushy creepy pervert even if you are attractive for an older guy. I wouldn't go for you,_ Brock,  _even if I didn't know you were HYDRA._

Snickering at whatever Steve was showing on his face, Rumlow told him, “Yeah, you've got real hang ups, friend. Don’t look so horrified, you’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

“I think you’re confusing hang ups and morals,” Steve grit out. “I managed to get through my whole life until this week without crossing a line I’d never even had to consider before. Still illegal in more than a quarter of US states. If I wasn’t destined for hell before, I sure as fuck am now. Is it really unreasonable of me to feel off about it? And no, I’m not under the influence. The only help I want from you is in figuring out if I want to bother the Secretary with anything.”

Rumlow stopped the lazily predatory slouch he’d affected in Steve’s direction and sat up straight. “We talking anything classified? Can’t do that shit here.”

“I know,” Steve said. “I’m not an idiot, Brock.”

“But you’re not used to the modern surveillance state either,” Rumlow countered. “Not-so-secret-girlfriend’s a case-in-point.” He stuffed a last bite of grilled chicken in his mouth and put the plastic lid back on his food as he chewed and swallowed. “Think we’re done eating anyway.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. Thanks for dinner. I’ll have to remember the place.”

“I got you a copy of the to-go menu,” Rumlow promised him.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“C’mon, Rogers,” said Rumlow as he stood. “Let’s take a walk.”


	51. Chapter 51

It was hard to be sure if Rumlow had a destination in mind or was just wandering aimlessly through the neighborhood. Steve spent the time trying to get his thoughts in order.

Rumlow stopped at a curb and pulled out his phone. Watching him tap away, Steve hoped his nervousness didn't show. It wasn't like HYDRA would abduct him off the street. There was no need to take that sort of risk. Not when they could do things like drug him on missions and make him compromise himself more and more and _more and more_.

As the phone went back into Rumlow’s pocket, Steve took a slow breath and slipped a hand into his own to curl around his phone. Since he'd woken in supersoldier-grade restraints, unable to trust his own body or desires, he'd had to revise all his assumptions about what HYDRA thought they could get away with. In a world where ordinary people could cross the world in less than a day and aliens could invade Midtown, how could he ever let his guard down again?

They _could_ grab him off the street. Easily. But the odds were against it because Captain America couldn't disappear for too long. SHIELD kept an eye on him.

But how much of SHIELD was HYDRA? He and Rumlow had censored themselves in his apartment, but Rumlow hadn't shown serious concern that Steve might say the wrong thing.

"There," said Rumlow. He crossed the street and sat on a bench. Steve followed. "So, what's eating you?" He kept his voice low but was _this_ really any more secure than Steve's apartment?

Steve leaned back against the bench and told himself he only shivered because it was pleasantly cool.

"What are we fighting for, Rumlow?" he asked. "Maybe it's just that I haven’t adjusted to this time, but some days… I really don't know anymore." He sighed, not faking any of his exhaustion. Why hadn't he taken the break he'd been offered? He could be eating pizza with Barton right now. Stubbornness and pride. Rumlow was right about him. "I used to know. First it was bullies, people who threw their weight around and took advantage. In the war, it was easy to draw lines and know which side you were on. We knew the part we played in the bigger picture. Sure, the Commandos and I… we did a whole lot of things that were either not sanctioned or had to be officially deniable. We did things I'll have nightmares about for the rest of my life. Howard was always coming up with new weapons he wanted us to test in the field. Some of those… The HYDRA weapons powered by the Cube were quicker and kinder. I tell myself the good we did outweighs the evil we committed. I thought I felt the same way about STRIKE, but I don't know now. There's no end, no plan for a final win with what we do. How do you do it, Rumlow? You're not just STRIKE, you're the Commander.”

Nodding, Rumlow settled back with a long tired sigh. “Like you said, Steve. Gotta believe you're part of something bigger. You were never just a grunt, Cap. You never had to keep your head down and trust your leaders to have a plan. Lotta books in your apartment. You been reading history?"

A mirthless huff. "Yeah. There's a lot I missed."

There was a black SUV headed in their direction. _They don't need to abduct me off the street._ He still couldn't help tensing as it passed.

"Vietnam?" Rumlow asked. “Maybe better you weren't around for that. What did you think?"

What was he expected to say? _Don't lie._

"A disaster start to finish. The treatment of veterans was shameful."

Rumlow said, "No decisive victory. Not much of a victory for anyone. Your war was the last the world can agree we won and no doubt of the rightness of the cause. Just look at the messes we've helped make. The chaos in the world.”

“Meaning what?” If Rumlow thought the moment was right to pitch HYDRA to him now, Steve would… do something stupid. Like punch him in the face. He imagined Rumlow saying something like _Are you sure you're fighting for the right cause?_

But he didn't. He had something worse prepared.

“What SHIELD does isn't about _achieving_ victory. It's about _preventing_ it. There will never be an end or peace. Only the latest objectives.”

There was a lump in Steve's throat. He thought he'd known all that on some level but it hadn't penetrated the wall of grief around the fantasy he'd had of a life after the war.

There would never be an _after the war_ for Steve Rogers. He'd lost any chance of one. Captain America hadn't put down his shield in over seventy years and couldn't now.

For an instant, knowing it was wrong, he let himself think it. _I wish they'd never found me._ A pair of blue eyes flashed through his mind and he was ashamed.

The phone creaked in his hand. He made himself release it. He had to let HYDRA think they were winning. He had to convince Rumlow he was comfortable, or at least thoroughly compromised and vulnerable to being... swayed.

His face must have done something to cause concern.

"Steve," said Rumlow, leaning forward and turning to search his face, still and serious in a way that made Steve want to be still and serious in return, "you're not gonna do anything stupid, are you? Anything like… storm into anyone's office?"

At that, Steve cracked a weak smile. "I know no one thinks much of me without the shield in my hand, but that's why I invited you over, remember? The Secretary is a busy man and it's always better to stay on the right side of Command."

Relieved, Rumlow nodded. "Yeah, and if you take advantage of being who you are to get face time with Fury, it'll feed the rumors that you're not fit to be a soldier in this century and can't survive without favoritism. Do what you're told and fight the good fight with the rest of us. There's a lot you don't know. You gotta trust there's a reason."

Steve hadn't heard any rumors like that, not in this century, but didn't doubt it was true. _Chorus girl..._

A bitter chuckle burst its way out of Steve's chest. " _Is_ it the good fight?"

"Of course it is," Rumlow assured him. He lowered his voice again. "Yeah, sure, you could go live in that offense against the skyline in New York or run away to Malibu, but seems to me you need the action. Hang up the suit and put away the shield, but I think you'd rather be here here, doing good work with the team that actually wants you. Sure, maybe Stark, Thor, and Banner have decent excuses but how about Barton and Romanoff? If the Avengers were a real team, they wouldn't have excluded you from their little STRIKE Delta club. Fury. Hill. Any of them take an interest in more than your mission report?”

That wasn't an idea Rumlow was trying to put in his head. Hadn't Steve been thinking the same thing? But if Rumlow _wanted_ him to believe it…

Steve crossed his arms. "I don't think it's like that. I've seen them on a few missions since the invasion. I'm sure they're just busy." He tried to laugh but even to him it rang hollow and false. “Honestly, I'm relieved not to see so much of the Widow. She always wants to set me up."

Scoffing openly, Rumlow countered, "Steve, if I could find out about your little routine, you know she wouldn't miss it if she’d made any effort at all. That tells me she hasn't. What does that tell _you_?"

Steve looked away down the street. There was a good reason Natasha Romanoff thought he was unattached.

“I don't like thinking you're right but I’m not gonna do anything stupid. I just… needed someone to talk to,” he said. “Thanks, Brock.”

Rumlow laid a heavy hand on Steve's shoulder. “Any time, buddy.”


	52. Chapter 52

For the second time that night, Steve almost broke his phone. Carefully, he thumbed it off and set the device on the counter, next to the remains of their dinner. He balled his right hand into a fist and carefully covered it with his left, setting his jaw as he leaned back into the wall.

"There… there could be a reason." The words sounded distant in his own ears, weak, unconvinced, and painfully desperate. "It's not proof he's avoiding my calls." But it was awfully easy to imagine, even when he knew it wasn't true. Barton would come if Steve needed him. He had to believe that.

Rumlow turned away from the plate of pasta he had been watching spin circles in the microwave and spread his hands in a gesture that was half _if you say so_ and half _I did try to tell you_. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," he said. "But I think you're wasting your time. What do you need them for anyway?"

Sighing, Steve said, "They were supposed to be my friends."

The microwave dinged. Rumlow removed the food, separated a portion onto another plate and pressed the lion's share into Steve's hands. "Says who? And eat that, would you? You're losing weight and you were all muscle to begin with."

“I guess I haven't had much of an appetite," he said wearily.

He took the plate. “Is it weird that I kind of miss being nagged at?"

Rumlow waved it off. "Only as weird as a supersoldier with no appetite."

Steve felt his mouth twist into an involuntary expression of amusement. Rumlow was horrible but Steve could almost see his alleged appeal. "You know, back before our first mission together, I went to them to ask about STRIKE.”

They drifted over to the table by the window next the kitchen area. Rumlow looked at him in question as they sat. “Yeah? What’d they say?"

"The Widow said you were skilled, ruthless, and professional." He smirked a little at Rumlow’s slightly smug face. "Then Barton went and clarified that you were a professional dick."

The professional dick in question nearly aspirated marinara. Recovering, Rumlow said, "They got no idea." He frowned at Steve. "And nice try at the distraction but, like I said, you're not gonna get one over on me so easily. Eat that food already, Rogers."

"Worth a try," Steve sighed. He offered Rumlow a decidedly nonregulation salute with his fork, stabbed a bite of noodles, cheese, and sauce, put it in his mouth, and forced himself to chew and swallow. The flavors were great and Rumlow knew some trick with the microwave for heating things just right that Steve couldn't replicate. He should have been able to enjoy the food but if he thought about what he was doing, what he had done, it was a struggle to get anything down. He tried to think of nothing at all and somehow cleared off half the plate before Rumlow drew his attention again.

"You talking to anyone?" Rumlow asked.

Steve looked up. "About what?"

Rumlow shrugged. "The war? What happened on our last mission? Why you’ve got no social life except for your little bit of fan service and don't eat like you should?"

Steve said nothing. It wasn't like that, he had a mission. It wasn't _like_ that. But he didn't have a comeback.

When he looked down at his plate without responding, Rumlow said, "What we do is hard, Cap. But it's harder if you don't find a way to deal with it. Shit happens. Sometimes we do it. Sometimes we can't stop it from happening. This life, Steve, you gotta take care of yourself. No one's gonna do it for you. Get some order back in your life. Find meaning. If you don't, you'll never get through the pain."

"And here I thought order comes through pain," he commented.

Shaking his head, Rumlow corrected him. "Gotta survive it first."

"Yeah, okay. You got a point." It was hard for Steve to estimate how much of what Brock Rumlow did was genuine. Did he care? why would he? Was he just trying to say all the right things to convince Steve to trust and confide in him?

"I got contact information for a few different options," Rumlow told him. "Mostly with clearance, but not all on SHIELD payroll, if that's a thing that worries you. No evaluation, just help. Extenuating circumstances or not, you gotta learn to compartmentalize better than you did on the mission, Steve. The whole team’s on stand down for at least the rest of this week. I'll come by with the contact information sometime Thursday or Friday, okay, Steve? But you gotta get your head back in the game and no one can do it for you. Fury probably expected Romanoff to teach you."

She was trying. Not that he could tell Rumlow that. "Yeah, okay," Steve said, feeling hollow. _It only feels like a loss._

They had been using paper plates. Rumlow stood up and disposed of his. "I should get going, but call me anytime. I mean it. You could've handled the situation better, but it wasn't your fault. It could have been any of us."

No, it couldn't. Sometimes, Steve wondered if it was possible Rumlow sincerely believed the things he said when he said them. His act was near-flawless.

Following Rumlow to the door, Steve asked, "How is..." He wasn't sure how to put it. He didn't know who was paying attention.

Rumlow's eyebrows went up but he didn't pretend to misunderstand. "The other... survivor? Don't worry about it."

"I can't help it."

"Steve," said Rumlow, putting that damn hand back on Steve's shoulder and looking him straight in the face. "You only did what you had to."

"Yeah, sure," Steve agreed but he didn't mean it. Just because Rumlow and Romanoff both said the same thing didn't mean it was true. “Thanks.” Empty words.

"You only did what you had to," Rumlow repeated. He released him with a final pat. "And I promise you, whatever you're blaming yourself for has already been forgotten."

Maybe the worst of it was knowing that was probably true.

 

On Friday, Rumlow came by with the contacts. On Monday, Steve left a copy in a dead drop for Natasha. They wouldn't meet again in person before Steve was called for another STRIKE mission.

The nightmares continued. Steve found it harder and harder to talk himself out of his renewed suspicions about the asset. He didn't want to believe. He couldn't. He didn't dare let himself.

He'd volunteered and now he was trapped. There was no other way out.

 

Rumlow had been right, of course. It shouldn't have been a shock.

"...not to your taste, I can be..." the asset promised like it had never _proven_  that to him.

Steve cut it off. "I know, Soldier," he assured it, trying not to choke. "You do a fantastic impression of him."

It offered him that small smile, a sharp contrast from the wariness with which it regarded the rest of the team.

The Winter Soldier was happy to see him (meet him? What did it remember?) when it should have flinched away from _all_ of them the way Steve wanted to. It didn't remember. He could never make any part of this right. He couldn't even try without making things worse for both of them. The only way to avoid making things worse was to… comply with the team’s expectations. Exceed them. The asset would love him and he would steal it from HYDRA. It would never understand how badly he'd hurt them both in the process.

Steve felt like something vital in himself had been messily cut out by broken rock and replaced with empty screaming freezing air.


	53. Chapter 53

The asset was on its best behavior. It was as wary around the rest of the team as it was shyly eager to follow Steve’s commands. What was the Winter Soldier’s equivalent of being sent home for two weeks? Not takeout and philosophy. It might be for the best that Steve didn't know how it had been punished but he couldn't help speculating. Did the asset even remember its punishment?

_Something_ had left an impression.

Whatever had happened had happened. This was no time to worry about it when he couldn't do anything anyway. A SHIELD-contracted engineer had gone rogue, or so Steve was told. They'd stolen something to do with the type of camouflage used on the Helicarrier and intended to sell it to a terror organization, unspecified, in exchange for something, unspecified.

“You gotta fucking be kidding me,” Rumlow had exclaimed. “What moron works for SHIELD and doesn't understand staying in a wooden box with no electricity or running water means shit if you make an online reservation?”

Steve said nothing.

Under ordinary circumstances, Steve would have asked more questions during the briefing but he was well aware he needed to keep his _own_ head down after the way his denial on the last mission had resulted in both supersoldiers’ unnecessary distress. He’d be a good operative and get himself explicitly recruited.

The mission was to recover the engineer and SHIELD’s property. All they had to do was wait for the target to show up for his Airbnb “offgrid cabin” reservation and grab both the man and the tech in the two days before the sale.

STRIKE wasn't necessary for a mission this easy. Steve wasn't necessary. The asset was so much overkill it was ridiculous.

_Everything is a test._  And this one was interminable. Five hours of being eaten alive while they watched a bend in a cliff-edge dirt road bordered by screening evergreens. The only one not showing any discomfort was the asset, but with the goggles and mask in place the asset could have been asleep for all Steve could tell.

“Hey, Cap.” Rumlow lowered his night vision goggles for a few seconds to rub at his right eye. “You know how  _your_  war ended?”

“Hitler shot himself,” Steve said. He still wasn't quite sure how he should feel about that.

“Yeah, but that's not what I'm thinking of,” said Rumlow and so, during their long night waiting in ambush, they talked about the end of the war in the Pacific. About Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the use of atomic bombs.

In all honesty, Steve had mixed feelings, though he definitely came down more on the side of hating what America and the Allies had done. The loss of civilian life had been horrific. And yet, he had seen enough of the war in Europe to understand the fear of engaging in another costly land war. An invasion would have been a disaster on all sides. He’d read how the Japanese had been ordered to suicide rather than surrender. He could imagine how the bombs could have been seen as the cleanest of dirty options. No one had really understood the effects of radiation back then. However nervous Steve had been about Howard’s Vita Rays, radiation of any kind had been more of a science-fiction concept to him than something to seriously worry about the way it was now.

They’d told him the experiment could kill him. Kill him outright or make him a supersoldier. No one had talked about half-lives or rate of decay or cellular damage.

It wasn't hard to guess what kind of opinions HYDRA would be looking for so he’d shared his relevant thoughts, his more appealing truth. “People now have no idea what it was like then. I can believe it was the only option. Immediate and unconditional surrender had to be achieved for the sake of the Japanese people as well the Allies,” he said and later, “I’m just glad no one’s used them since. I guess it was like gas after the Great War. Too many civilian casualties, too indiscriminate. Long-lasting horrific aftereffects. All sides agreed they didn't want to see it used again.”

The implications were disturbing. On the Valkyrie, he had seen bombs labeled for major cities, like one would be enough. HYDRA and the Axis hadn’t had the atomic bomb, but they’d had the Tesseract. SHIELD had had the Tesseract for much longer than Schmidt's HYDRA. After Phase Two, he didn’t dare assume bombs like those no longer existed.

But it didn’t make sense for that to be HYDRA’s endgame in 2013.

Headlights appeared on the long private road leading to the cabin and Steve set aside his speculations to focus on the mission.

 

The asset performed perfectly, although Steve nearly had a heart attack when it fulfilled its orders to force the car off the road by simply barreling out of the underbrush to body slam the vehicle.

When the car came to a stop, partially raised by the young trees it had bent or broken, the asset reached through the front of the shattered windshield and ripped the unconscious target out of his seat past the ragged glass edges with its metal arm.

If it had calculated the force wrong or maybe if the man hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, their target would have gone flying down the cliff face to the river below.

The asset threw the target over its right shoulder and reached through the hole again. With a double beep, the trunk popped open. Over comms, the rest of the STRIKE team reported no movement and Steve and Rumlow stepped out of cover to cross the road and approach.

Rumlow went to the trunk to secure the stolen technology. Steve went to the asset, heart still pounding.

”Target retrieved,” it told him, tone flat.

“Injury report,” he demanded. He didn't need it to give a mission report. He'd seen everything.

He wished he could see its face.  _Don't think about it. It can't be Bucky._

The asset began listing injuries, beginning with cracked ribs and it wasn't until it said “laceration of forehead and left cheek” that Steve realized it was describing the bloodied limp form over its shoulder and not itself.

“Thanks, Soldier, but I meant _you_ ,” he said.

Its head moved slightly to the side. “Minor bruising, Captain. It will heal by the conclusion of the mission.”

Was it  _reassuring_  him? It sounded like maybe it was.

“Package is secured,” he heard Rumlow say both ahead of him and through his earpiece.

“Great,” Steve said, to one or both of them, he wasn't sure.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The torture tag applies to the next ten chapters or so.

The mission wasn't over.

"Come on, Cap," said Rumlow. "You didn't really think they called us out just to snatch the guy?"

Feeling sick, Steve shook his head. There was a long drawn out cry of pain from inside the small room, subsiding quickly into moans and whimpers.

It wasn't the first time Steve had done this. It wasn't the first time he had waited for someone to finish interrogating a captured enemy.

It was the first time he'd done it for HYDRA.

He was going to be sick again after this. It didn't matter why he was standing by and letting this go on. He was doing nothing while a man was tortured, likely to death. How had this become Steve's life?

 _Everything is a test_ , he reminded himself. He couldn't fail.

"It's just… I thought he was supposed to be one of ours," Steve said.

"Not anymore," spat Rollins.

Rumlow shrugged. "Too fucking stupid to live either way."

More screams. Broken pleading babble.

Steve pressed his fingernails into the palms of his gloves.

"The asset's good at this," Steve was assured. "Won't take much longer."

"Yeah," Steve said unhappily. "Not my first time. Doesn't make me like it any more than I did during the war."

"Who was your interrogator?" Rumlow asked. He knew perfectly well. Not everything had made its way into a mission report, but enough had.

"Bucky could be terrifying when he tried," said Steve and felt his face twisting. "He'd come out stone-faced and dead-eyed and report his results without a tremor. Wouldn't let me see a thing."

The door opened and the asset stepped out. Bucky's face was uncovered, body bare up from the waist apart from smears and splashes of blood. Its right hand was dripping red onto the rough gray floor.

"But I'd see his hands shaking later," Steve finished, trailing off.

Everyone's hands had started to shake eventually. War did that to people.

Bile rose in his throat. He couldn't look at that face or hear the report. "Excuse me," he muttered and stepped out into the safe house bathroom.

The place wasn't huge. It was a small ranch-style house with an office, a bedroom and a bathroom and the living room open to the kitchen. The basement was finished, converted into a gym and another bathroom. The adjoining hidden basement was unfinished concrete with two small bare empty rooms behind heavy doors on one end and a panic room/security office just next to the passage that led to it from the back of the bathroom closet.

Steve sat on the covered toilet seat, put his head in his hands, and took slow controlled breaths until the worst of the nausea began to ebb away.

The asset was no longer speaking. Steve got up and slid the panel open to return to the others in time to catch the tail end of Rumlow’s orders. He and Rumlow would take care of the asset while their teammates dealt with the rest. Steve didn't know if the unfortunate man was alive or dead.

Dead, probably, with the asset's face plain to see.

It had been _Bucky's_ face.

_Don't think about it. It can't be Bucky._

”Asset,” said Rumlow. He tipped his head in Steve's direction. “Go clean up. Wait in the shower for us. You know what to do.”

It nodded and went, face turned down and away as it passed Steve.

“Cap.” The Commander gestured Steve into the security office before following and walking past him so he stood with the view of the cells and Steve had his back turned to what was going on outside the soundproofed box. “You okay, Steve?”

Steve sighed. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “The resemblance got the better of me for a moment again.” He could still hear their teammates moving. The basement shower was running.

Rumlow made a face. “You gotta figure something out. Call Dr. White maybe if you're not willing to try out this newfangled psychotherapy thing. He does good work with hypnosis.” He shook his head at Steve's expression. “Yeah, I used to think the same thing, but don't knock it till you've tried it. It works for some people.”

“Yeah, sure, maybe I'll give it a try,” Steve said, noncommittal. _No way in hell._ He wanted to rub his arms but didn't want to show any more vulnerabIlity.

“If you need more time after this mission,” Rumlow started to offer.

Cutting him off, Steve protested. “No. I'll be fine. I'm never gonna learn to deal with it if I keep putting it off.”

The team was efficient. The only thing Steve heard from outside was the water.

Rumlow nodded a little, arms folded over his chest. “Yeah, that's right.”

Steve suppressed a shudder. His heart beat faster. _That's right._ It had to be deliberate on the part of the STRIKE Commander.

“Now since I'm a professional dick, not a fucking machine, and there's only two of us,” Rumlow started, switching tracks, “You're gonna have to fuck it more than once today. You got that, right?”

“Not a problem.” The words sounded calmer than Steve felt.

Rumlow studied him and apparently liked whatever he saw. “Good. But I wanna introduce you to a couple things we have to make that easier first. Never know when you'll end up fucking it without backup again.”

“Can't wait,” Steve said and was proud of the way the words came out smooth and neutral.


	55. Chapter 55

The small room they were in was designed to function as the security monitoring station. It had screens showing each room and every direction around the house. Including not only the bathroom, but the shower itself, because HYDRA was creepy that way. The camera’s direction there was up, not down, because HYDRA was creepy  _that_  way as well.

The asset was rinsing its hair. Its eyes were closed. Its cock was completely soft.

Steve hated that he'd even thought to check.

"I want you to watch," said Rumlow and pulled something like a small silver key fob out of the pocket of his vest. "You can hear some through the soundproofing, right?”

Steve nodded. He didn't like where this was going.

“Don't leave this room until I call you. I don't want it distracted." He hovered his thumb over a button on the device, glanced at the screen and let it dangle from his fingers. “I don't expect you to like what we have to do, Steve, but I do expect you to do what's best for the program. Can't deny it would be easier if you  _did_  try to enjoy the benefits.”

“I'll take that under advisement,” Steve said dryly. “But you don't need to worry about me, Brock. I learned my lesson last time.”

The Commander studied him. Steve didn't let his face change. Finally, Rumlow nodded. “Then stay here until we're ready for you.”

“I will,” Steve agreed, though he had a very bad feeling about whatever Rumlow was about to do.

_Don't think about it. You have a mission._

Rumlow patted Steve's arm. 

_Why? Don't think about it now. Focus on the mission._

On the bathroom camera, Rumlow walked into view and moved his thumb over the silver device.

There was a wet crash as, in the shower, the asset’s knees buckled and hit the metal floor, hands following, even though it was too late to break its fall. Breathing hard through its gritted teeth, it reached up and turned the water off, keeling properly just as Rumlow slid the shower door open.

“Asset,” he barked. “Repeat your orders.”

Steve thought he saw it trembling but maybe that was the camera.

The reply was too quiet for Steve to pick up.

“Then why'd I have to use this?” Rumlow brandished the device.

The asset didn't look up to see it. The hair hanging from its downturned face moved like it was speaking but Steve couldn't hear.

“So, what, you didn't hear me come in?” Rumlow snapped. “You know better.”

As far as Steve could tell, it didn't respond.

Rumlow lowered his voice and Steve couldn't catch what he said next but the Winter Soldier blanched and Steve was a step toward the door before he could stop himself. It wasn't  _fair_ , what Rumlow was doing.

But Steve knew life wasn't fair.

He couldn't go out there yet. He was  _watching._ Trying to interfere would be a mistake. He'd made too many of those already. 

Now, though, he could hear Rumlow again. He swallowed hard, throat tight. This didn't sound good.

"...a little too much... your last mission... should... lesson... attentiveness?"

The asset was shaking its head slowly, body very still. 

Crouching in front of it, Rumlow commanded, "Hands," and it offered them at once. As the magnetic cuffs closed over its wrists, it aimed a single glance directly at the camera.

Mouth dry, Steve missed what Rumlow said next to the pounding of the blood in his own ears.

Handler and asset rose together, the latter's miserable resignation a sharp contrast to the combination of false regret and cheerfulness evident in its handler.

"Moving to the gym, Cap!" Rumlow announced, signaling at the same camera the asset had looked at before.

Steve looked at the equipment visible in the three camera angles covering the basement gym.  

One feed showed a cluster of machines Steve couldn't identify. Two of them were simply focused on the large thick mat in the center of the room. Steve didn't like  _any_  of it.


	56. Chapter 56

Rumlow and the asset came into view on the second of the cameras, right in the middle of the mat. There had been no opportunity for the asset to dry itself. Water pooled around it when Rumow pushed it down onto the mat face first.

His words didn't make it to Steve's ears but the gist came through anyway as the asset lay flat with its cuffed hands stretched over its head. There was a cable hanging from the ceiling above the mat with a small control box for a set of pulleys. Rumlow grabbed it and pressed a button to lower a cable with a hook attachment right in front of the asset's face until several inches were coiling on the mat between its arms. He attached the hook to the magnetic cuffs without raising the cable again, leaving them to lie on the floor without tension. When he moved around to the asset's other end, it moved its legs apart even before Rumlow kicked at its ankles with the combat boots he was still wearing.

 _None of this is new for them,_ Steve realized _._

Rumlow crouched again and trailed a hand down its spine to rest on its tail bone. Steve had to look at the different camera angles to see what he was doing as he went briefly to one knee on the mat. The hand with the small device in it stayed out for balance as Rumlow's other hand slid from the asset's coccyx to between its legs. 

The asset pressed the side of its face into the mat. Above the locked magnetic cuffs, its hands twitched minutely.

In an abrupt departure from the slow movements he'd been making, Rumlow slapped the swell of the asset's ass and stood. The asset hardly reacted to the slap. What  _did_  make it go tense was when Rumlow eased the toe of his right boot between its legs, nosing under its balls and soft cock.

Steve couldn't hear what he was saying to it and the camera angles were all wrong for them to make any attempts at reading lips.

The asset shook its head wordlessly against the mat, denial visible mostly as tossing hair. Steve's chest went tight in response.

_No one will appreciate interference._

Whatever Rumlow had planned hadn't even started. Steve had to control himself.

The boot moved a little. Rumlow said something, drew it back, and the asset's torso came with him, sliding back so its knees bent either side of it and its ass was slightly elevated. Its bound wrists remained flat to the mat but there wasn't much slack remaining in the cable to which they were attached. 

Withdrawing his boot, Rumlow stepped back off the mat. View unimpeded, Steve noticed what looked like a black cord trailing between its cheeks.

Rumlow manipulated the thing in his hand and the asset went rigid. Muscles in its ass and thighs tensed and relaxed as it tried to keep still. Steve waited for Rumlow to stop whatever he was doing to it but he simply watched it twitch until a flush began to spread down its neck and chest. 

With an expression of satisfaction, Rumlow turned to the camera nearest the door, raised a hand, palm up, and made a come hither gesture. 

Steve swallowed hard. He didn't want to know what he'd be expected to do with the Winter Soldier once he left the security office.

Not that he had a real choice here now. He was in too deep but not deep enough to be useful if he abandoned the mission. He'd have to abandon the asset too. Either way, Steve didn't like his chances of successful escape. Any handler could turn the asset from one function to another in an instant and Rumlow was much more experienced. 

_Focus on the mission. They have to believe they're winning._

"...for both of you," Rumlow was saying as Steve opened the door. "Neither of you get to break the rules just because your new handler doesn't know better. Amnesia and ignorance aren't excuses, asset.  _You_  know that."

Steve lingered in the bathroom for a few extra seconds, wondering if he could get away with taking the time to wash his hands or face. No, he'd just be stalling. Rumlow hadn't washed up either. They had always cleaned up first before. Steve didn't feel the relief he'd have expected at the prospect of putting off the inevitable rape. New territory with HYDRA wasn't likely to be much better. In fact, he found he had an awful amount of faith in HYDRA's ability to make things worse.

He eased open the door leading from the bathroom to the main space of the basement gym. It was hard to convince his body to not react like he was walking into an enemy ambush when he really  _was_. "Rumlow?"

The Commander met his caution with a knowing half-smile. "Relax, Cap. It's all got a purpose. Haven't caused it any pain."

 _Yet_ , Steve heard. "Doesn't look too comfortable either," he commented, stepping fully into the room.

Rumlow shrugged. "That's the point. The asset is as comfortable or uncomfortable as its handlers allow. That means you and me and the Secretary. No one else is permitted to discipline it. Welcome to the next stage of handler training, Steve."


	57. Chapter 57

_Wonderful._  Good for Steve’s mission, maybe, but he was having enough trouble keeping himself together already. More training in how to abuse the Winter Soldier was exactly what he didn’t need.

_Get through this now. Think about it later._  "What's that cable for?" Steve asked.

"We can't actually hang it from its wrists," Rumlow explained. "The tech team showed you how the arm's attached, right?"

Steve liked this less by the second. He nodded. "Yeah. The biological and artificial components have different levels of elasticity and can separate under prolonged stress." Which was a nice way to say that pulling on the arm without a chance to relax and heal could lead to the arm tearing the asset apart from the inside. There were connections all through its torso and in its brain. "Baker said it's not supposed to be suspended from the arm or use it to carry loads exceeding three hundred pounds for over twenty minutes without a break."

"That's right, Cap," Rumlow confirmed. "Flesh heals, but the rest means surgery to get at the parts that need fixing. Not worth the recovery time."

It was hard for Steve to imagine circumstances under which the question of hanging it by its wrists would even come up. Torture, mostly, but why do that to one of their own?  _Because they can and because it’s not a person. No. They don’t_ see  _it as a person. Get your head straight, Steve._

But he held his tongue. He had a mission. _Worry about it later. It’s okay to fall into their patterns. They have to believe they’re winning._

The asset tensed as Rumlow stepped past its cuffed hands and reached out to tap the casing of the control box. "But it's an effective threat. Remember when you asked why it was sweating when we had it at the Lockbox?"

Parts of that first experience were blessedly fuzzy due to the drugs Steve had ingested but he remembered. "You said it was responding to an association with past experiences." The word Rumlow had used was  _intense_. Steve was fairly sure he'd meant  _traumatic_. "Minimal physical work for maximum psychological effect. Less risk for everyone."  _Fuck_. As soon as he spoke he knew he'd made a mistake.  _Romanoff_ had told him that. Not Rumlow.

But the Commander only chuckled. "Someone's been reading. Yeah, you got it. And it doesn't need anything that harsh for such a minor infraction. It's enough to remind it what we can do if it misbehaves to the point we can't trust it in the field without retraining."

Once this lesson was done, Steve was going to be sick again. He was almost looking forward to it. He didn't want to grow used to this sort of thing. Ever. For any reason.

Rumlow nudged the asset's bare foot with the toe of his boot. It spread its knees wider, presenting itself to its handlers without hesitation. The black cord wiggled as its muscles shifted.

“Now, I know it's not much to look at like this, but this thing is a handler's best friend when the asset's having issues."

“What is it?” Steve asked. That was why he was here. To learn. This wasn't what he wanted to be learning about but this was the way he was getting closer to his goal.

“It's the Winter Soldier equivalent of a shock collar,” Rumlow explained. “We couldn't give it an actual collar for safety reasons.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyebrows. “Do I want to know what you're talking about, Brock?” He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.  _Get through this. Fall apart later._

“Shit. Sorry, you didn’t have those in the ‘40s. Dog collars that deliver an electric shock to affect dog behavior.”

At least they’d been  _dog_  collars. Steve had been prepared to hear something much worse but that was still horrifying. Were they legal now? _Focus_. "I got it. Go on.”

“It’s a plug,” Rumlow told him. “Flexible so it can wear it in the field with minimal risk.”

The logical but even more horrifying conclusion was… “With an electric charge?” He walked around the asset, boots squeaking on the wet mat, and stopped by its head so he couldn’t see the torture device up its ass. The asset looked clean, sparkling with water. Steve and Rumlow had surrounded it with muddy bootprints. There was something about that image that made Steve think fleetingly of painting it.

_I’m losing my mind._

“Three settings. Shock, vibrate, expand. Pain, pleasure, and, well, that last one… We can do a lot with that. The shock is painful but not damaging. I had it on vibrate before you came in.”

That had been Steve’s immediate guess. “This is a toy?”

“No, it’s a tool. And only handlers get knowledge or access. It’s print-locked. Anyone else touches it, they get shocked.”

And so would the asset. “Do I have access?” Steve asked. “And is that the, the plug itself or the remote or both?”

“Nah, the remote won't work unless you're authorized but it won't shock you."

He almost fumbled the small silver device when Rumlow grinned and tossed it to him.

"Try it and find out. Techs said they added you. That center button is the vibe.”

Steve looked down at the innocuous little remote in his hand and swallowed. Somehow it seemed worse to inflict this on the asset without even touching it.  _Do I have to do this?_  Yes, he did. Rumlow had proven that he would push Steve until he gave in to at least part of the sick agenda. Something worse would come after and refusing to comply here and now would only make that worse thing come sooner.

He felt sick. Erskine must be getting a lot of exercise recently, spinning in his grave.

Something brushed Steve’s ankle, startling him. The asset was pressing the side of its head against the only part of Steve it could reach. Why? Was it begging him not to? Was it encouraging him? Trying to comfort one or both of them?

He looked up and found Rumlow was watching him. Steve could imagine him thinking what he’d said in the locker room when it had begged for Steve to use its mouth.  _I’d give it a smack for that but it's learning your preferences._

There wasn’t a real choice here. “Asset. Position,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice gentle as he stepped back out of its reach. It settled its forehead back between its arms in the puddle on the mat.

Steve pressed the button.


	58. Chapter 58

As before, the asset struggled to keep still. Steve could hear the quiet buzz of the device inside it, though he doubted the noise would be detectable by most people. The asset tried futilely to press against the plug but there was nothing to resist and the best it could do was fight not to rock in place. It wasn't supposed to seek stimulation without permission.

"One option we've got here actually is a fucking machine," Rumlow informed him, gesturing toward one of the machines that third camera angle covered. "It's got several options for attachments including what we're using now."

Steve tried to make sense of what he was looking at until the parts resolved into what he thought had to be a motor connected to something like a matte black half barrel crossed with just the seat of mechanical animal ride from the fair.

A thought occurred to him. "Is the asset's mask clean?"

Rumlow's eyebrows indicated surprise and then speculation. "Stripped off most of its gear before it started working on the guy. Saves time cleaning all those straps and buckles."

"You mind getting it for me? I think it would help."

After a moment's hesitation to examine the situation, Rumlow flashed him a smile. "I'll be right back."

Once he was out of the room, Steve squatted to get closer to the asset's ears. "I don't enjoy hurting you, Soldier. I'm sorry."

The asset remained motionless.

He wasn't expecting much of a response so he couldn't really be disappointed not to get one. The asset owed him less than nothing. "I don't want to. But it's like you've said. Supersoldiers can't fail. Have to be good. Understand?" He couldn't say anything else. He wanted to but it wasn't safe.

The asset nodded without lifting its head.

The response didn't help Steve feel any better about what he knew he had to do. "Good," he said anyway.

"Here you go," said Rumlow, coming back into the gym and tossing him the asset's mask.

The asset drew in a nearly soundless breath as Steve released the vibrate button but it maintained its position on the mat. Steve couldn't tell if it was hard or not. He didn't know if it  _wanted_  to be.  _It can't matter. Do what you have to._

It was easy to replace it on the asset's face. It held still, expression carefully neutral as Steve checked the fit one last time before he stood.

"Two choices now. We can put it on the machine or you can pick out a paddle or something. Either way, the plug stays in until the asset loses control." He smirked at Steve's expression. "I know what I'd choose but I'm happy to leave it up to you this time. It does the asset good to have to wait and pay attention. It can be hard to tire it physically. The machine'll do it, though, if you wanna go that route."

Steve shuddered once and then again at the realization that visualizing the asset on the machine provoked a small thrill of unwanted arousal. He'd told himself that he'd rather beat than rape the asset, and he stood by that, but it wasn't so simple. Rape was more familiar now, that was all, and the violence felt new and frightening. He didn't  _want_  to fuck it. But he couldn't deny the sick reaction he was having to the idea of seeing it on the machine. Which would be more disgustingly selfish? To prolong the sexual torture and with it his own shameful response or to choose to inflict pain directly for a shorter duration even knowing he might have chosen it to avoid dealing with... that. 

It would undoubtedly be hell on both of them either way. God he hated Rumlow but he couldn't afford to think like that right now. The more experienced handler was a professional who could teach Steve a lot. He was a teammate and friend who was looking out for him and wanted him to enjoy himself and excel in his role.

He couldn't let himself consider the unfairness of Rumlow looking for a fault to punish the asset for just so he could use this location's setup. Because this  _had_  been planned. If the asset had been waiting on its knees, there would have been some other justification instead. The poor thing was so afraid and tried so hard to avoid punishment.

Which was Rumlow's point. Order through pain. 

Better pain than doing anything to feed that horrifying unwanted pleasure.

"What do you mean by paddle?" Steve asked.  _Don't think about the asset on the machine. Don't think about Bucky. Don't think._   

There was a padded bench against the wall. Rumlow walked over to it and flipped the seat up to reveal a shallow storage compartment. 

Steve swallowed, mouth dry.

Rumlow grinned darkly at him and crossed his arms while he waited for Steve's reaction.

It took two tries for Steve to speak. "You said the asset  _loves_  toys?"

The Commander snickered. "Maybe not these."

The most benign-looking instrument was something like a pale wooden bread paddle with the edge wrapped in studded brown leather. Everything else seemed to be spiky or sharp or stained with something Steve didn't want to think about. "These are..." Not only horrible in form and presumed function but rough, unfinished. 

"Homemade, yeah, and we can improvise in the field. Works great for keeping the asset attentive. If it doesn't warn us before something breaks, the rule is it gets another."

Steve picked up the bakery nightmare. "But I have enhanced strength. I could break any of these on the first swing." As soon as he said it, he realized that might be exactly what Rumlow wanted.

"Yeah," Rumlow said agreeably. "You could. Easily. So that's  _your_  challenge, Steve. You gotta figure out how to use your strength and aim effectively so you only deliver as much pain as you intend. You have to be comfortable with your ability to discipline the asset. The asset has to trust its handler's ability to give it the pain it needs to maintain order in its life. Maintenance and training."

"Order through pain," Steve said, turning the broad flat paddle over in his hands. He had never done anything like this before but he was sure he could aim it to avoid catching the metal and leather on skin. It would sting but it shouldn't cut.

"That's right," said Rumlow.


	59. Chapter 59

“What exactly is the expectation here?" Steve asked with no small amount of trepidation.

"You're gonna beat until it can't maintain position," Rumlow said succinctly.

With a frown, Steve protested, "Kinda feels like a flimsy excuse. Not kneeling."

"The real issue is that it wasn't paying close enough attention to its handlers. We gotta deal with little stuff like this right away or it'll just misbehave more. Asset?" Rumlow said. "Tell Captain Rogers why this is necessary."

The asset inhaled. It sounded a little shaky and Steve wanted nothing more than to punch Rumlow in the face until he stopped talking, gather the asset off the floor, wrap it up in something warm and dry, and give it a hug.

"I need to be punished now. If I don't learn my lesson, I will repeat the mistake and need to be punished again in the future. Please, Captain," it said. "You're my handler. I need your guidance."

"Why  _me_?"

He expected Rumlow to answer but it was the asset who spoke again. "I-" It cut itself off.

The STRIKE Commander raised his eyebrows. "No, go on. What were you going to say, Soldier?"

Lowering its face even closer to the mat, the asset said, "I don't fear you like I should, Captain." It paused, swallowing hard. "I need to learn. Before I commit a major error. It's safer for everyone if I know to fear my handlers.”

It was clear this was very little to do with the asset’s earlier mistake.

The warmth that had temporarily suffused him at the admission that it wasn't afraid of him turned to cold heavy dread.

_Live the role. Do what you have to do to be convincing._

“You want me to make you afraid of me?” Steve demanded, taken aback even though he should have expected something like this.

“I  _need_  you to do it, Captain. Please.” The asset’s breathing was growing shallower. “P-please hurt me.”

Oh god. It clearly didn't want any of this anymore than Steve did.  _Don't lie._  “But I don't want you afraid,” Steve protested. “And you've been good for me so far.”

“It won't always be,” Rumlow put in. “The first time it gets agitated and confused to the point it turns on you… Supersoldier or not, you can be killed and the asset is better at killing than you are because that's its basic purpose. Think of this conditioning as the safety on your weapon. It's gotta flinch from the idea of hurting you and that's gotta be its first instinct.”

Steve’s tongue felt thick and dry. He'd been relieved Rumlow didn't have the remote but now he was more worried than ever about what he'd be asked to do with it. “We’re… not just talking a few swats with the paddle anymore, are we?”

Rumlow sighed. “Not unless you keep using it after you break it. No. You'll need to leave a real impression. But that'll do for a warm-up.”

Steve tried to swallow but didn't have enough saliva. He clamped his hands on the handle of the paddle to keep them from shaking.

“Come on. The sooner this is over the sooner we can reward it for telling us it needed conditioning.”

That was worse, not better. 

"Please, Captain," whispered the asset. It was bracing itself as much as it could without its hands. 

Steve really didn't want to do this. 

But he couldn't break now. He had to continue the mission. 


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section has been difficult for me to write, so updates may come a little slower than before.
> 
> Warning for torture in the next few parts.

"I don't know what I'm doing. How does this work if pain means little to it?" Steve asked.

Rumlow answered. "Nah, the asset does what it's told. It'll take punishment like it takes everything else. You can order it to give feedback or to endure silently. Just because it's conditioned to ignore pain doesn't mean it can't feel it. Right, asset?”

It nodded. The top of its head and tips of its hair were beginning to dry.

“Pain is nothing unless there's also impairment. It will do it's best to follow orders until it physically can't. Believe me, it  _wants_  to be an asset.”

_If it's not an asset, it's a liability like the others._

“I guess I should order to try to endure, then? You  _were_  afraid of me once, Soldier,” Steve said, knowing he was stalling. “Not long, but you were. I broke your hand.”

Rumlow snorted. “Tell it  _how_. I was there and I can hardly believe you did that.”

Steve flushed. “You were blowing me and I lost control of my strength.” He wanted to apologize again but he really couldn't in the situation.

There was no response from the asset because he hadn’t asked it a question or given it an order but Steve knew it was listening. He wondered what it was thinking.

It was a struggle not to crush the wooden handle of the paddle in his hands.

“And you held its hand all the way to the chair,” Rumlow said, with a note of satisfaction. “If you can damage it without trying, let’s see what you can do when you  _are_  trying.”

“But I don’t  _want_ to damage it!” Steve protested. “How can that possibly be in anyone’s best interest? And anyway, why would hurting it convince it not to hurt me? I don’t see the link.”

Scowling now, Rumlow said, “We punish misbehavior. The asset already knows that. All you have to do is convince it you’re capable of carrying out punishment. You’re just adding yourself to an existing conditioned association between unhappy handlers and pain. Maybe we  _should_  hang it up for a bit.”

The asset was breathing very shallowly again.

“No,” Steve said quickly. “There’s no need for  _that_  level of damage, is there? Nothing that needs surgery to correct.”

“Fine,” said Rumlow. “Try it your way. Just get on with it.”

Steve swallowed and tried to work out force and direction in his head. “O-okay. Try to endure for me, okay, Soldier? I don’t think either of us wants to do this again.”

It nodded and made a visible effort to relax its shoulders and back which was odd because staying tense would hurt more. It  _asked_ to be hurt but that behavior meant it was trying to minimize its pain.

Steve waved the paddle through the air experimentally. There was a lot more air resistance than he’d expected. It was hard to keep it straight when it wanted to slice away through the air at an angle. He tapped it against the asset’s bare ass (it didn’t flinch) and pulled it back, trying to fix the trajectory in his head.

Rumlow snorted. “You’re not playing golf, Rogers. For fuck’s sake. Just hit it.”

Trying not to think about what he was doing or why, Steve did. The blow landed with a sharp crack on the asset’s right cheek and rocked it forward. The flesh went white and then quickly filled with color again.

There was no other reaction.

“Huh,” said Rumlow. “You didn’t break it. Try again.”

_Don’t think about it._

He did, trying for the other side. The air resistance altered his angle slightly but not enough that he lost control. It did force him to slow his arm a little, which was undoubtedly what had saved the thing from cracking. He didn’t want to carelessly hit it where the plug was. He didn’t know what would happen if he did but he doubted it would be pleasant.

_Don’t think about anything. Do what you have to._

A third, to the right side again, and when he drew his arm back again for a fourth to the left again, some instinct had him pull the blow at the same moment as the asset said, “Captain,” in a barely-voiced puff of consonants.

It wasn’t broken, but there was a line developing where it  _would_ break with another hit.

“Time to pick something else out of the chest,” Rumlow said. “Try something with a little more oomph to it. You want to make this difficult.”

It was  _already_ difficult. He had to do it, though. There really wasn’t a choice.

“And give me back that remote,” Rumlow added. “I’ll help.”


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...was the last chapter that terrible? I’m kind of disturbed by the sudden lack of response but maybe I’ve just been spoiled.

Rumlow didn’t use the remote immediately after Steve returned it to him. It stayed in his hand while he waited for Steve to choose what to hurt the asset with now the paddle was cracked.

"You gotta watch everything?" Steve knew the answer was yes. He poked at another one of the items in the compartment and tried to imagine it in use.

Imagine  _himself_ using it. Oh, God.

“I'm surprised at you, Cap. I thought you were more dedicated than this,” Rumlow commented.

“I  _am_  dedicated.”

“Then stop stalling and prove you can handle the job because right now you're failing your training, Steve.”

Steve grit his teeth and picked up the first object that came to hand, what looked like a leather belt slit lengthwise into three tails and then stapled back together. Badly. With very large staples.

_Don't think about it. Focus on the mission._

Not so helpful when the mission was what he was trying not to think about. Chest tight, he returned to his position behind the Winter Soldier.

“I've handled the asset with minimal incidents for years, Rogers. We don't  _need_  you as a handler. You want it or not?”

_You can't let personal shit like that get in the way of doing what has to be done._

He could do this. He didn’t have a lot of choice. Failure wasn’t an option.

“Yes, I do,” said Steve and brought the belt down on the asset’s back. The makeshift whip snapped against the skin. The staples caught flesh and left bloody scratches.

“Hmm,” said Rumlow, sounding unconvinced.

Steve did it again, readjusted his grip, and  _again._ There was blood beading in the lash marks. He didn’t want to look at them but he had to watch what he was doing or he might do serious damage.

“Better. Asset? Is the Captain giving you what you need?”

“More, please,” it mumbled against the mat.

"Don't bother warning Cap about breaking his toys," said Rumlow. "More effective that way."

Jaw set with teeth clenched, Steve repeated the motion, determined not to flinch.

Again. Again.

He kept going until the staples started to come loose and the end of one of the leather strips was flapping.

Steve did flinch then at the layered marks and bloody abrasions but Rumlow handed him what looked like an old extensible radio antenna and he didn't dare let himself lose momentum.

Rumlow checked in with the asset periodically. The answer was consistently that it needed _more, please_  and the STRIKE Commander kept handing over improvised torture tools while playing with the remote. Steve could hear the plug’s motor but it wasn't the buzz of the vibe setting and the asset didn't move like it was being shocked.

"Why are you doing that?" Steve asked, while testing the sharpness of something that looked like a black plastic golf umbrella handle covered in steel wool by slapping it against his own arm. Not as bad as it looked. Rough, but the steel wool had enough give and flexibility to cushion the impact a little.

The STRIKE Commander huffed in minor amusement. "I wondered how long it would take you to ask any useful questions. Sensory confusion. Conflicting stimuli keep it from dissociating. If it checks out on us, the lesson won't be effective.”

When Steve flicked a glance over him, he couldn’t help noticing the bulge in Rumlow’s pants.

"You're enjoying this," Steve accused. He struck the asset in its upper right back, trying to avoid the shoulder blade itself. There was a kind of crunchy noise over a hollow thwack. The shaft turned in his hand on the second blow and the asset’s body jerked.

He wanted to check its face but that wasn’t his job right now. He wouldn't be able to see anything with the mask anyway.

Shrugging, Rumlow simply said, "Yeah. Principles and good intentions only take you so far. We gotta live. It's one way to cope. And we condition ourselves too, you know. Gotta be ready to give it its reward later."

If he was gonna do this, he’d better do it. He was supposed to be learning from Rumlow. He could be sick later. "How? This isn’t a sex thing. Not for me.”

“Or me. You’re right. It’s about power. It’s all about power.”

At least that sounded honest.

“And we haven’t got to the sex part yet. You don’t have any reason yet to associate hurting the asset with physical pleasure.” Rumlow chuckled. “Don’t dwell on it, Steve. You really want this, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Steve said unhappily and hit the asset again. The umbrella handle broke, snapped cleanly in two.

Already Rumlow had the next implement ready for him, a long silver alloy tent peg with spaced holes for hooks. From the last hole hung something like a dream catcher decorated with metal bottle caps.

The edges cut and the backs of the caps would bruise, he was sure of it. The rim of the net thing wasn’t a picnic either, leaving larger pink crescents to match the bloody ones left by the bottle caps.

Steve aimed for the asset’s upper back, ass, and thighs. The peg began to deform in his grip after only a few strikes, metal bending, denting, and crumpling until it was useless. Steve was glad. The asset was beginning to shake.


	62. Chapter 62

By the time the asset finally failed to hold its position, the only thing preventing Steve from crying from the relief that he could stop was the dread of  _rewarding_  it when there weren’t a lot of places to touch it from behind that he hadn’t beaten purple or bloody. He couldn’t imagine Rumlow letting it do what they’d done the last time.

“Go shower, Steve,” Rumlow told him.

Because they always cleaned up before raping the asset.

 _Don’t think about it_.

“I’ll watch the asset. We can’t all fit in there.”

He couldn’t come up with a word to say. Nothing civil. Nothing safe.

As he left, he saw Rumlow crouch by the asset's head, lift its head by a handful of hair, and say, “Still with us, asset?”

It nodded weakly, struggling to breathe evenly through its damp mask.

Steve paused in the middle of stripping. He hadn't bothered closing the door, more concerned about what was going on in the gym. It wasn't like Rumlow hadn't seen him naked often enough before.

“Well done. Exactly what you're meant to do. Now here's what...” Rumlow looked up and caught Steve watching. “ _Steve_. Hurry and get clean so we can finish up here. The asset's gonna need some looking after when we’re done.”

Flipping Rumlow the bird, an act of weak offense that mostly left him feeling embarrassed, Steve stepped into the shower to the sound of the HYDRA agent’s chuckle.

There were still a few smears of blood from the asset's shower before him. Heaving as quietly as he could, he turned the water on without testing the temperature and was glad there was nothing for him to bring up. Maybe the asset didn't get to use hot water when showering alone because it was cold as the hell reserved for betrayers.

Rumlow smiled when Steve returned. There was a towel around his waist but there hadn’t seemed any point to dressing again. He knew what was expected.

“You gonna shower, Rumlow?” Steve asked, unable to force himself to the false intimacy of using the man’s first name and hoping for another moment alone with the Winter Soldier. To do what? He didn’t know. He could beg its forgiveness but he couldn’t trust anything it said, could he? Couldn’t trust it not to report him for not acting like a handler was expected to behave. Couldn’t do a goddamn thing.

“Not yet,” Rumlow said. “It’s been waiting so patiently. Let’s get you started first. Asset. Ready for your reward?”

The asset shook its head. “C-Commander,” it stuttered, struggling for breath.

Rumlow raised his eyebrows at it. “Oh, this’ll be good,” he said under his breath, cutting a glance at Steve.

The asset cringed.

Steve bit down on his tongue, the pressure just shy of drawing blood. It wasn't allowed to say no. It was meant to take whatever its handlers gave it: orders, pain, and pleasure alike.

“What, asset?”

“The… the chair. Please. The chair.”

“No reward, Soldier?”

It shook its head again quickly but without taking its focus from him. “ _Please,_ Commander.”

The Commander sighed. “Asset…” He stared down at it. "And here I thought you'd had enough. You were doing so  _well_  until right now."

Steve’s throat felt tight. He couldn’t have made a sound if he’d tried. Was the the asset  _trying_ to get itself hurt even more?

After staring at it long enough that Steve began to think maybe violence _wouldn’t_ come immediately, Rumlow kicked the asset hard in the ribs and when it absorbed the blow with a sharp exhalation, pressed a button on the remote. There was a cut-off scream and the asset went momentarily rigid. Recovering, it curled itself up as best it could in response to the shock and then let itself go limp. It lay in the puddle on the mat, panting and trembling.

“Rumlow!” Steve exclaimed, helpless and angry and Rumlow jerked his head up and glared, challenging Steve to interfere.

Never good at backing down, even though he  _knew_ it was a stupid thing to do, Steve took a step forward, raised his hand, and  _Rumlow tossed him the remote_. He froze like he’d caught a lethal spider, totally derailed.

“Press the button, Cap,” Rumlow told him. “Order through pain. This is necessary discipline. Press the button.”

The asset’s near-inaudible whimper was like snow thrown in his face. He had a mission.  _You can’t fail._

“You see what happens when you give it its head too much? It starts thinking it can get away with not complying. The asset isn't the only one learning here. Press the button.” There was no mishearing that warning tone.

_Do what you have to do._

Steve pressed the button.


	63. Chapter 63

Three seconds. Steve held the button down for three seconds. He watched Rumlow and not the asset. Without being able to see its face, there wasn’t much point. It wouldn’t be able to tell where Steve was looking either.

Those three seconds seemed to stretch forever while the HYDRA agent watched the asset’s helpless spasms. His eyebrows went up slightly and Steve released the button on the remote.

“Asset. Tell us what happens next.“

“I… I submit to maintenance,” it gasped out, and anticipating, clarified, “of my conditioning.”

“Good. That’s right,” commented Rumlow. “Much better.” He nodded to Steve. “You too.”

_A good operative. You’re being a good operative. Play along. Do what you have to. Don’t cause any more trouble for yourself or the asset._

“Tell us how we do that, Soldier,“ Steve said.

“My handlers must routinely demonstrate physical and sexual dominance.“ It sounded… relieved? Why? Because Steve was no longer hurting it? Because it knew what to say? Because it knew what came next?

“And how is that a reward for you?”

The asset sounded exhausted. Not at all enthusiastic. “Being fucked by you will result in physical pleasure. Permission to orgasm is my reward for pleasing my handlers.”

“That’s right,” said Steve, nearly numb enough to the words to say them without hesitation.

“Come on, Rogers,” prodded Rumlow. “Haven’t got all night. You want its mouth or its ass first?“

Every time Steve saw the bloody mess he’d made of the asset’s back, he lost all hope of an erection.

_I have to do this. The only way through is to live this role. I have to be a better handler._

_“_ Mouth,” he said.

“A little tricky with the cuffs,” Rumlow warned him. “I’m not gonna undo it, so you’ll have to put your knees either side and sit on its arms. “

Steve considered the logistics of that and nodded. “I can do that.“

Rumlow wasn’t finished. “The asset tenses up when it gets shocked. Use the remote to stretch it again.“

_Oh god. What the fuck am I doing here?_

“Please,” whispered the asset.

“O-okay,” Steve said shakily. He dropped his towel and folded it in half twice. There was no point in modesty in this situation. There hadn’t been for a long time with these two. “Raise yourself as much as you can, Soldier,“ he ordered and watched it struggle to comply long enough for him to slide the towel beneath its arms and upper body.

Then he straddled its outstretched arms and carefully lowered himself until his knees hit the mat just beyond its shoulders.

He had the strange sensation that his hands didn’t belong to him as they reached out and removed the Winter Soldier’s mask, exposing Bucky’s face. Its face was flushed and drawn with lines of pain and fear. Steve had done that and he hated himself for it.

With his fingers, he combed the hair back from its face. Soothed, it kissed the back of his hand as he pulled away.

The asset strained towards him, making a show of eager compliance, and Steve hated himself even more that he had done this often enough to tell that it was putting on a show. It felt even more like rape than usual.

_Don’t think about it. Do what you have to do. It can’t matter._

He wasn’t hard and was relieved not to be, that he hadn’t conditioned that response to being naked with the Winter Soldier yet. Rumlow had made a valid point, not that that was something Steve found desirable in the least. He shifted his hips forward and let the asset pull his soft cock into it’s mouth. He closed his eyes and didn’t try to fight the pleasure. All that doing that would accomplish was to extend the asset’s suffering. He would fuck it as soon as he could this time because it wasn’t fair to make it suffer because Steve had… hang ups about his role as handler.

“The remote, Rogers,“ Rumlow reminded him and Steve opened his eyes long enough to fumble with it and make certain he had the correct button. It was more like a toggle which made sense because it needed both expand and contract as different settings and oh god how was this Steve’s life?

“Easy does it,“ said Rumlow as the asset made a muffled noise that might have been, was probably, a whimper. “Don’t wanna hurt it now. There’s no rush.”

The asset started to choke as Steve’s cock filled. The angle was pretty terrible for it.

“I never want to hurt it,” Steve said. “Doesn’t mean I won’t.”


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we’re caught up with Dreamwidth!

It wasn’t a lie, Steve’s willingness to hurt the asset. He wanted it to be a lie but he had already hurt it so much. Now, to make matters worse, he lost his erection immediately upon the sight of the asset’s back again.

Rumlow sighed at him. “Try playing with the remote. I’m gonna go wash up.”

Steve pressed the button for the vibrator function again. The asset shifted a little and Steve saw the flicker of the wince the asset was suppressing.

Evidently satisfied, Rumlow went off to shower.

With knowledge of how it had acted when they’d been drugged, Steve knew it wasn’t at all comfortable. The plug had been in its ass since before they’d left for the mission and who knew what Rumlow had been doing with it. Hand on the asset’s jaw, Steve raised its face gently. “What can I do?“ he asked softly.

Wary puzzlement as the asset told him, “Anything you want, Captain. I’m yours to use.“

Frustrated more with himself than anything else, Steve protested, “What I want is to use you in the way that’s best for you, Soldier.“

It looked so confused it broke Steve‘s heart. “I... don’t understand,” it said haltingly. “Please. Use me like I’m meant to be used, Captain. I need it.”

Steve wanted to run his hand down its spine but he couldn’t do that with its back all torn up. He tasted bile. “You were choking.”

Eyebrows knit, it said, “All of me is yours to use. I can hold my breath a long time.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, defeated. _There’s nothing I can spare it without making things worse. It doesn’t even understand why I’m struggling with this. Don’t think about it now, just do it._

It licked its lips and opened its mouth for him, straining forward.

Steve guided his soft cock back onto its tongue and made himself rock back-and-forth as he fiddled with the expand and contract toggle.

“Let me know when you think you’re ready, Soldier,“ he ordered it.

It nodded, and swallowed around him. It was a few minutes before the asset made a muffled noise around his recovering erection.

With the grip he had on its hair, Steve held it back while he pulled out. “What was that?“

“Ready, Captain,“ the asset repeated hoarsely. “Please.”

This time, when he was hard, he was very careful not to look at anything he didn’t need to see for his immediate task. That was bad enough.

Steve hit the toggle to shrink the plug again. It came out easily enough with a horrible wet sound. Red and inflamed, the asset’s hole didn’t even close up all the way.

No way in hell would it be able to enjoy its supposed reward. Best just to get this over with as soon as possible.

One finger and then a second slid into it without resistance as the asset whimpered. At least there didn’t seem to be any need for more slick. Steve had never done this part before but he’d seen it often enough. He was easing a third into the trembling body when Rumlow returned.

“The plug should have been enough,“ Rumlow advised him.

Steve didn’t respond, but he pulled his fingers out, lined himself up and closed his eyes as he pushed in. He’d never done it like this before. Never without chemical assistance.

He had to be as efficient about this as he could so he couldn’t let anything distract him.

It was a relief that this sensation was nowhere near as intense as it had been under the influence of those drugs. The only place he could find to get a grip on it without hurting it more was it just above its knees. He bowed his head, eyes closed, and let his body go through the mechanical motions of fucking it. The asset made little noises of distress which cut off abruptly when Rumlow claimed its mouth. Steve didn’t look and tried not to think about what he knew was happening.

Eyes still closed, head bowed, Steve groped for the asset’s cock. _Oh hell. Fuck._ It wasn’t more than half-hard.

“Problem?“ grunted Rumlow.

Potential consequences spun through Steve’s mind. “No problem,“ he said firmly and began to stroke it. He wasn’t going to put it through the whole process again, not when it was hurting like this. They would do it this way or not at all. Steve worked the asset between his hips and his hand until his fingers and palm were slick with pre-come.

Rumlow was finished and watching them by the time Steve got the asset off. For an awful moment, he really thought he wouldn’t be able to but it managed a feeble unhappy orgasm on command and Steve forced himself to continue fucking it to his own disgusting completion.

As soon as Rumlow unbound it, Steve supported the asset back into the shower. Thankfully, there wasn’t enough room for all three of them, and only enough space for one under the spray, so Steve was able to put a hand over its mouth to smother its initial bitten-back cry of pain at the water beating down on its wounds. It stood stoically after that, however, and let itself be rinsed clean. Thank God there was a cleanup team coming.

Apart from the first shock of the water, the asset only flinched when he ordered it to spread its legs so he could clean the mess between its thighs and between its cheeks, trembling as Steve cautiously probed at its abused flesh.

“Hey, we’re all done now. Gonna be okay, Soldier,” Steve tried.

It kept its head down. “Please, Captain. The chair.”

He couldn’t understand why it was asking for that. It hated and feared the chair. Steve loathed it himself and _he’d_ never had to sit in it.

Rumlow banged on the door. “We don’t got all day, Rogers.”

“I’m still assessing the damage,” Steve snapped and instantly regretted raising his voice.

There was an exasperated huff from outside the shower. “It’s a supersoldier, Steve. It’ll heal. You did what you had to. Don’t beat _yourself_ up over this.”

In reply, Steve sighed angrily and tried not to grind his teeth.

“Fine!” said Rumlow. “I’ll do a last sweep of this place and start loading the van. Just don’t take too much longer.”

“Turn around,“ Steve ordered the asset, firming his voice is much as he could. “Let me see.“

Avoiding touching him as it turned, the asset bared its back to him. To Steve’s relief, some of the shallower scratches were already beginning to heal.

The sight of the changing bruising should have provoked greater horror but Steve felt curiously numb to it all. _Finish the mission. Get the asset to the chair. Get away before you break down._

“The Commander said you never punished me before,” the asset murmured to him, quietly enough he doubted any microphones would pick anything up above the sound of the water.

Steve shook his head, realized the asset couldn’t see him, and said, “That’s right, Soldier.”

Nodding, it said, “My body will remember this time. You shouldn’t have to hurt me again. I’ll be good. I’ll comply for you, Captain.“

Steve couldn’t tell if it was begging or simply stating its own belief. He suspected the latter, which was almost worse to think about.

He couldn’t tell it how sorry he was. Steve was one of its handlers. He wasn’t supposed to be sorry.

“You’re always good for me, Soldier,” he said instead. “I just wish I had a better way of rewarding you.”

“You don’t like fucking me?“

 _Don’t lie._ But there wasn’t a good way to say no to that.

“Ideally, I think a reward should be something _you_ like,“ he said.

“You’re a very strange handler, Captain,” it told him.

“It’s a work in progress,” Steve promised.


	65. Chapter 65

They met up with the tech team, this time with representatives of both mechanical and medical.

There was no chair in the truck they transferred to. Instead, they had Rumlow order it to strip and stretch out face down on a rolling metal table where its arms could be restrained to the table by its sides.

“We’re staying, this time,“ Rumlow told Baker. “Rogers is gonna put the asset in the chair. It begged for it.”

He said it matter-of-factly, no trace of satisfaction or disapproval. Or maybe Steve just couldn’t pick up on it, numb as he felt. It wasn’t all that unusual at the conclusion of a mission even if it had never asked for it before. Most often, it had hesitated but he had always been able to talk it into the chair in the end. If the mission had gone especially smoothly it might even smile at him.

Other than removing a staple and a few splinters that had escaped Steve’s notice in the shower (and oh _god_ Steve’s memory was a well-deserved curse), the techs left the asset alone, giving into Steve’s demand for antibiotic ointment with rolled eyes and a reminder that the serum would take care of such superficial damage. It didn’t look so superficial to Steve. He was sure a regular human would have been in shock at the very least.

Though its breathing remained a little shallower than usual, the Winter Soldier lay quiescent as he applied the ointment to the deepest lacerations. He wanted to take its hand after he was done but it flinched. Steve wondered if it remembered about what he had done to its hand before. It hadn’t been that long. Only a few hours. Not even daylight when they’d left the safehouse. The asset hadn’t been showing any signs of confusion. It almost certainly did remember.

He couldn’t comfort it.

Steve sat next to Rumlow and watched the asset suppress its pain response each time the movement of the vehicle jostled its injuries.

The truck was too quiet. Steve’s thoughts chased each other in circles. The only way the asset could have said _I don’t want this_ more effectively would have been if it actually said it. Steve had gone ahead anyway. This was the worst thing he had ever done in his entire life, without question. _This_ was the sort of thing the Steve Rogers who had first gone to war knew only bullies did and would’ve fought to his last breath to end. _This_ was rape and torture. _This_ was the difference between _unable to consent_ and _forbidden to refuse,_ both rape but the latter somehow so much worse.

 _This_ was HYDRA and there was no telling what would be demanded of him next now that he’d given in.

In the windowless back of the truck, there was no way to really tell where they were going and plenty of ways to confuse the data he _could_ gather. They drove for about two hours (but they could have been driving longer than necessary, so that didn’t mean much for distance) and they went through at least one tunnel at an elevation which seemed high instead of low. Pennsylvania? West Virginia? That didn’t really help much. It was nowhere near enough to distract Steve.

At least he could watch the asset’s healing process. It flinched from his hands but, as soon as he sat down, it turned its head to stare in the direction of his boots with slightly glassy eyes.

_Don’t think about it. Any of it._

What was it about the damn chair?

_Don’t think about it._

After about the first hour, Steve realized part of his discomfort was probably that he hadn't eaten since late morning the day before. It must have been at least twenty hours. Apart from not-always-intentional post-mission fasts, his body had become used to eating much more frequently than that, even if the very idea of food was enough to provoke nausea. He hadn't expected the mission to take this long. He was certain everything since they nabbed the guy had been HYDRA, not SHIELD. Who would be reading his mission report, Steve wondered.

Not Director Fury.

_Don't think about it._

He looked back at the asset. Yes, it was still watching him, or pointing its face in his general direction. He couldn’t read it.

_Don’t think about anything. Put the asset in the chair and get out. Don’t think about any of it until you talk to Romanoff._

This was the worst thing he had ever done in his entire life.

Steve felt the change as the truck rolled into some sort of garage or underground parking structure.

When the doors opened, the asset was left strapped down. Steve had heard this kind of vehicle referred to as a kneeling truck before, which meant that the back descended to make the incline of the ramp that extended and lowered a gentler slope. The tech team rolled the asset’s table down the ramp and through a cavernous garage while Steve and Rumlow kept pace. There were a pair of double doors they passed through and then a circular room about fifteen feet in diameter with a maintenance chair in the center. The chair was surrounded by carts and banks of monitors. All the bundles of cords appeared to be connected to one thing or another.

No version of the maintenance chair had ever looked so terrible since the first time Steve had laid eyes on one after breaking the asset’s hand.

Frozen, Steve hung back by the door as the asset’s restraints were removed. It didn't move until Rumlow explicitly ordered it to sit up. Fresh blood dripped down its naked skin as scabs cracked and tore.

He couldn't take a step even when Rumlow raised his eyebrows at him in question. He could barely breathe.

“Asset. Go to the chair,” Rumlow commanded.

The Winter Soldier shifted its weight onto its feet and glanced at Steve, as if looking for confirmation. He nodded at it, throat tight. A little unsteady on its feet, it complied as quickly as it could. There was absolutely nothing to be read on its face as it sat, carefully holding itself away from the back of the chair.

“What do you say, Soldier?” asked Rumlow.

“Thank you, Commander,” said the asset.

Rumlow nodded and the techs made certain the restraints were secure.

“Come here, Steve,” said Rumlow.

Steve tensed. Something awful was about to happen. This was the point when they usually left it to the techs.

Body still facing the asset, Rumlow twisted to frown at him over one shoulder. “ _Steve_ ,” he repeated.

_Don't think about it. Just do what you have to._

But he couldn't make his feet move forward.


	66. Chapter 66

“What  _is_ this?” Steve demanded.

The asset looked up to scan over his face before dropping its head again. He still couldn’t read it.

With a shake of his head, Rumlow turned and came back to position himself between Steve and the doors to the garage.

That was not a good sign.

“Okay, fine, we’ll stand back here.” Rumlow sounded irritated, but like maybe he was too tired to argue. “Just thought you might want to be the one to give it the bite guard.”

“Why does it need a bite guard?”

Baker stepped forward. “Commander…” he began, sounding worried as he shifted his attention between the asset and Steve. None of the techs had seemed that worried about him since the first time they'd met him.

“He’s ready,” Rumlow said flatly, speaking to Baker without looking away from Steve.

Steve balled his fists and wished he was in full uniform with his shield. “For what?” he snapped. Whatever little control he’d thought he had in this situation was slipping through his fingers.

“To see what the tech team does for the asset after a mission,” said Rumlow. “To help the asset through critical routine maintenance.” The words were nonsense meant to soothe.

“Meaning  _what?_ ” Steve was about to say more when Baker held up what he knew had to be the bite guard itself. It was black. It had a little handle. The handle was slightly worn from use. He couldn’t help staring at the thing.

He'd known that the tech team used a bite guard with the asset sometimes because of the story about the candy, but he had thought that was because they were giving it medical attention. Healing hurt, even with the serum. Sometimes more because of the serum and the difficulties it presented in terms of pain relief. The basic understanding Steve had of the arm meant that he knew calibration tests had to be painful. They didn't seem to be setting up for either of those. They hadn't even bandaged or covered the injuries Steve had inflicted on its thighs and ass, much less its back.

“What is this?” he repeated, wrenching his gaze back to Rumlow.

Rumlow was holding one of his stun batons in a deceptively loose grip and now there was movement at the edges of the room. Armed and armored movement.

_Let them believe they're winning so they’ll reveal themselves. Your job as an intelligence operative is to survive and report. Rumlow called this routine maintenance. It isn’t new to anyone but you. Stop making a scene._

“Brock?” Steve deliberately relaxed his hands and stepped sideways to get closer to the STRIKE Commander. Rumlow was his teammate and supposed to be his friend. Steve should think of him as safe, right?

The soldiers filling up the room weren’t quite pointing their weapons (a mix of real guns and tranqs) at Steve but they weren’t quite  _not_  aiming at him either. They wore SHIELD gear without SHIELD patches.

“Nothing to worry about, Steve,” Rumlow promised quietly. His free hand settled in the middle of Steve’s back and he struggled not to jerk away. “It’s a regular precaution. Newbies don’t always do so good the first time they see this procedure and sometimes the asset acts up a little.”

As if on cue, the asset’s prosthetic arm gave a little whir. It was flexing its fingers on the armrest as it watched the room through its tangled hair.

“We’re ready, Doctor,” one of the techs said into the tense silence. The machine powered up with a horrible hum of electricity.

_Fry them. Won’t want him electrocuted._

In his head, Steve repeated every curse he’d learned in his life as his stomach lurched and his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. They’d  _told him_  and he hadn’t listened, hadn’t understood.  _Oh God, let me have misunderstood again..._

Rumlow patted Steve on the back. “Can we get a bag or something for Cap here to be on the safe side?”

_I’m not gonna be sick_ , Steve wanted to say for pride’s sake alone but he wasn’t confident that was true. Since he’d started working with STRIKE, he’d been sick more often than in all the rest of the time since Project Rebirth.

“Routine?” he questioned as a nervous member of the medical team brought him a plastic-lined paper bag.

“Sure,” Rumlow assured him. “The Winter Soldier is a weapon. What do you do with a weapon after you’ve used it? You clean it up and put it away.”

Steve crumpled the opening of the bag. “How?”

He watched the asset’s eyes flick to Rumlow, then to Steve, pained, before it accepted the bite guard with bruised resignation. It started to shake even before the chair forced it to recline.

“We call this a wipe,” Rumlow explained calmly as the pieces came together.

The asset began to scream.


	67. Chapter 67

Steve woke slowly which was in and of itself a good indication that something was wrong.

He was sprawled on a concrete floor and couldn't remember how he had come to be there.

He didn't try to move yet. He didn't know what was going on. He was in an unknown location. Plus there was the difficulty he was having focusing and remembering. There had been screaming, hadn't there? Yes, someone had been screaming. Not Steve. He didn't think so, anyway. Not unless he'd been unconscious longer than it felt and had had time to heal. Everything was heavy, mind and body, and it dawned on him that he'd been drugged again. One of HYDRA’s new favorite tricks.

HYDRA.

 _Bucky_.

No, the Winter Soldier.

He turned his head.

“You're a goddamn idiot, Steve,” Bucky told him.

No, it was the Winter Soldier. It was sitting against the far wall with a tablet computer in its lap, earbuds dangling from silver fingers.

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it without saying a word.

“Don't try to move,” said the asset. “ You've been very heavily sedated. Which is what you get for trying to interfere with my maintenance but they overdid it a little. You were unconscious for hours. Stay where you are for now or you'll probably be sick. There's no point moving anyway. You're in a cell designed for a supersoldier.”

Hints of Bucky were creeping into the asset’s voice. Steve wished it would just pick one or the other and stop confusing him.

He didn't ask any of the questions swimming through his head. He lay his cheek back against the cool concrete and waited for more information.

The asset put one earbud back in and stared at something on the screen of the tablet.

Steve closed his eyes again. He couldn’t hear enough to identify what the asset was watching.

A few minutes later, the asset said, “I’m analyzing footage of us together. We need to know where it went wrong.”

“Wrong?” he croaked.

There was a rustle of the asset’s sweatpants and Steve opened his eyes as it crouched beside him. It tilted the screen in his direction and Steve flushed with embarrassment. On the screen, he watched himself clinging to the asset as they were (naked and smeared with sweat, semen, and crushed floor tile) carried out of the lab where they’d been exposed to the purple aphrodisiac. The asset switched tabs and pieces fell into place as he watched himself shake Rumlow off and lunge for the chair. It looked like every tranquilizer gun in the room hit him at once and it never even occurred to him to try to dodge. The Steve on the screen collapsed at the Winter Soldier’s feet, reached out with his right hand, and narrowly avoided being electrocuted himself as Rumlow grabbed one of his ankles and pulled him back.

“Wrong,” confirmed the asset, voice utterly flat but still too close to Bucky’s blackest disapproval.

 _Which scenario is it using?_  The thought was bitter. And then,  _Oh, fuck, have I blown the mission?_  But as more context came back to him, the idea of failure was almost a relief.  _I don’t want to do this anymore._ But he didn’t want the terrible things he’d done to be for nothing.

_I’m still trapped._

The asset sat next to Steve’s head and stared expressionlessly down into his face. Steve could hardly make himself breathe.

“The Secretary has suspended your handler status,” it informed him, which answered at least a few of Steve’s questions. “Today was a serious failure. The Commander was disappointed because you did well earlier.” Another video, this one of Steve whipping the asset with the stapled-together belt. In the present, the Winter Soldier didn’t appear at all disturbed by the scene.

“Why are you…” Steve started before nausea overwhelmed him and he closed his mouth.

“I’ve been viewing the footage, but I don’t remember you as my handler, Steve,” it said and the way it said his name was impossibly wrong. “The Commander wanted me to talk to you like this, supersoldier to supersoldier. I trained the other Winter Soldiers, in the beginning. Please, Steve, don’t make me train you. I could be a good asset for you but you have to be a good asset too to be a good handler. Assets comply or they are liabilities. Liabilities are eliminated. What’s best is you comply. Compliance is best for everyone. Do you know why you fail to comply?”

_Because this is HYDRA and its wrong. Because you’re being abused and it doesn’t even occur to you that there are other ways. Because I want to protect you. Because I hate them but I can’t hate you even if you’re not Bucky. Because I’m afraid I know you better than you know yourself and if you remembered more you wouldn’t want to be here anymore than I do. Because I..._

Steve shook his head and nearly retched at the movement.

“Dumbass,” sighed the asset. It waited for an answer. When Steve said nothing, it said, “Think about it, Steve. Don’t make it so you have to be broken again before you’re useful. Don’t make them put you back in the cold.”

“Can’t make me disappear. I’m not like you,” Steve said, hoping it was true.

The asset’s eyebrows came together. “You’re very well positioned, it’s true. That’s why you could be a good handler, not just an asset, but noncompliant supersoldiers…”

_It really does think I’m like it._

Steve shook his head again, much more carefully. “They can’t afford to do that to me. I’m Captain America.“

“How are you so stupid?“ the asset demanded despairingly. “Just because you’re the best of us doesn’t mean you don’t have to comply.”

Every bit of the anger Steve had been trying to suppress surged, burning away caution. “ _You_  don’t have to comply either. I think HYDRA made you out of my Bucky,” Steve said recklessly and froze.

Smiling sadly, the asset shook its, his, head. “What’s more likely? That I’m the real Bucky Barnes or that you were never the real Steve Rogers?”

“What?” Steve said dumbly. He’d never considered his  _own_ identity to be in question.


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is freaking out, HYDRA won’t win in the end and there will be several chapters of aftermath.

Steve took a deep breath and then another as he considered the plausibility of the Winter Soldier’s suggestion. He didn’t think there were any significant gaps in his memory, other than the time he’d spent in ice. He wasn’t like the asset. He wasn’t a Winter Soldier. Steve knew who he was and how he had got there.

”It’s much more likely you’re Bucky,” he said, but his voice betrayed his unease. “Or were. I know who I am.” _Don’t I?_

Had he followed orders too easily? How long had he missed while he and the asset had been drugged with the aphrodisiac? Oh, god. Was Rumlow repeating the same praise used on the asset as deliberate manipulation or _out of habit_?

It shouldn’t be so easy to shake his convictions. Why couldn’t he simply dismiss the idea?

_Think about it later. Or don’t. Don’t think about it._

“We know what we’re meant to know,” countered the asset. “That doesn’t mean it’s objectively true. But I’m sorry, Steve. Everything I’ve learned about you tells me you worry for my safety, however unnecessarily. I’m not Bucky. I know better than to argue with programming.”

“You’re serious,” Steve said numbly. “You really believe what you’ve been told.”

The Winter Soldier looked puzzled. “So do you. It’s just that you were told something else. I understand now. When the mission requires me to, I believe I’m James Barnes. You were made better. You don’t need the same maintenance. I shouldn’t be trying to interfere.”

”Then why are you?” He couldn’t touch the rest of what the asset was saying. He couldn’t afford to think about that right now.

He had to let it go for now. This wasn’t a good time to unnecessarily antagonize the Winter Soldier. This was a terrible place to discuss its identity. He’d tried to tell it but it couldn’t listen.

 _That’s what he, it, thinks too._ Steve did his best to squash the insidious thought.

The asset was silent for a few minutes. Slowly, it said, “It would... be advantageous... to have a handler who cares. One who can hold my focus and loyalty and make me safe even when I’m confused. But it won’t work if you aren’t willing. Maybe if you could break character a little this would be easier.”

Steve hesitated. “You’re trying to help me. Even now?” He couldn’t help the frown.

It met his eyes. “Pain means little to me but it doesn’t mean nothing. It is important that you be good so you can help me be good. What’s best is we comply.”

”I’m not very good at complying,” Steve admitted. “I never was.”

Shaking its head, the asset said, “ _Steve Rogers_ was never good at complying. Carrying out orders is what supersoldiers are made for.”

”I _am_ Steve Rogers.”

It nodded, regretful, and moved to stand. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait!” Steve objected, struggling to sit up. He couldn’t let it go like that.

The asset paused.

“I-I hurt you. Earlier. And then the… the wipe-“

A hint of a smile flickered on its lips. “You worried. I’m fine. It will heal.” It twisted to show him part of its back. The visible skin was a multi-color horror but it no longer looked raw. “The wiping procedure helps me. It makes everything clear. It is necessary to help me control myself.”

_I’m sure you believe that._

“You were screaming,” Steve grit out, “like you were dying.”

”I don’t remember that,” the asset promised, “but I've seen it. It's nothing but an involuntary physical response.”

“Soldier...” He couldn’t think of anything to say to fix any of this. Maybe if it hadn’t been wiped so recently... But this was where they were. “Are you afraid of me now?”

The shadow of Bucky’s _you gotta be kidding me_ expression settled over the asset’s face before vanishing into familiar blankness. ”You aren’t currently a handler or part of the teams assigned to assist. I have no reason to fear you. You have no authority.”

That wasn’t a no.

“And if I regain that status?”

The asset’s face went cold and guarded. “Are you ready to comply?”

”Probably not,” Steve stated, more boldly than he felt.

Icy eyes narrowed. ”Then, after everything, you _don’t_ care about me.”

The words were a gut punch with a metal fist and super strength.

“You’re angry,” said Steve.

”Are you ready to comply?” repeated the asset.

“What will it mean if I say yes?”

“The lesson you taught me this morning won’t be wasted.”

Steve absorbed the blow. He deserved that and more. “And if I say no? Will SHIELD hold me prisoner indefinitely?” He barely remembered not to say HYDRA.

Anger obvious now, the asset said, “Don’t be stupid, _Steve_. You’re Captain America now. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have to comply.”

”I can’t hurt you like that again!” Steve snapped back. He couldn’t stop himself. His own anger was boiling up.

Abruptly, it shook its head and turned pleading eyes on him. “You’re gonna get hurt, Steve,” it said, injecting more than a hint of Bucky. “Don’t make me do this. You’re my mission. I don’t fail.”

They stared at each other, each willing the other to understand. After a minute or so, the asset sighed in dejection and dropped its eyes.

All at once, Steve thought he understood what it had really been saying this whole time.

“Soldier,” he tried to say but it was already knocking on the cell door.

“Cooperate,” it said unhappily. “Compliance will be rewarded.”

The door opened. Steve tried to stand but only fell back on his ass when his legs refused to work right. The supersoldier sedative was powerful.

“Commander,” said the asset, “the subject requires training.”

Rumlow sighed. “I didn’t want it to come to this.” He looked right at Steve. “But the Secretary agrees.”


	69. Chapter 69

The Winter Soldier carried Steve out of the cell cradled ungently in its arms. Without his feet on the ground, all Steve could do was hold on and wait. No one answered his questions about where they were going or what would happen now. It was like he wasn’t even speaking.

While Rumlow directed the asset through the base, he asked the asset to report. Steve hadn’t consciously realized he was being interrogated. In hindsight, it was obvious and Steve had fallen for it. The asset reported everything Steve had said. It said nothing about what it had told him in return.

Steve believed the Winter Soldier had been the real Bucky. Steve had encouraged it to refuse to comply. Steve had said he didn’t think _he_ could comply. Steve thought being Captain America publically meant he couldn’t be seriously punished. Steve worried about the asset’s safety more than his own. Steve had been upset by the asset’s screams.

He tried to interject and was ignored.

“We’ll get him something for the noise,” Rumlow said. “You know what we have to do now, asset.”

The asset’s grip on Steve tightened as its heart rate increased. It nodded.

“You don’t-” Steve tried to say but the asset forced his face against its chest so he couldn’t finish.

“ _You_ gonna give us any trouble?” Rumlow asked.

“Ready to comply, Commander,” said the asset.

They walked in silence for another minute. The asset held Steve tightly and he tried to breathe without being distracted by the familiar scent of its body. It didn’t help that the last person who had carried him anywhere while he was conscious had been Bucky, before the serum.

With a soft exhale, the asset stopped and relaxed its grip. Steve twisted to see what was going on. “Where are we?” he asked and was ignored again.

Rumlow put his hand on a palm scanner. The door slid open soundlessly to reveal another entrance to the room with the maintenance chair.

“Soldier. Tell Rogers why we’re here,” he ordered as Steve started to struggle in earnest despite his body’s lack of cooperation. “Both reasons.” He didn’t sound happy. “Cut that out, Steve. You’re not in any danger. You’re right about that, at least.” He looked frustrated, tired... even _sad_.

_He’s just upset I’m not doing what I’m told anymore._

In all honestly, Steve might have been more relieved to be addressed directly than to be assured he wasn’t about to be put in the dreaded chair.

“What are we doing here?” he demanded.

Speaking over him, the asset said, “All tasks must be completed. Compliance is not optional. Our relationship must be reset before training can begin."

He’d thought that was where this might be going. “I can’t stand by and let-”

“You must observe. See for yourself that I am not damaged.”

That was three reasons but Rumlow only nodded. “Put him over there,” he ordered, jerking a thumb toward a very different metal chair in an empty space on the side.

The asset complied. It was probably Steve’s imagination if it seemed reluctant to let go of him. Its heart rate had not calmed.

“Don’t do this,” he insisted, not sure if he was appealing to Rumlow or the Winter Soldier.

“You’re not my handler,” it hissed and stepped away. “And I’m not your anything.”

“Time to fix that,” said Rumlow. He tossed it a set of magnetic cuffs and a heavy pair of headphones. “Asset. Put these on him and then go sit in the chair.”

It did, clamping his wrists and ankles to the legs and arms of the reinforced metal. The weakness of his muscles made the task easy. As it moved away, its right hand lingered on his shoulder an instant longer than was necessary. He couldn’t hear if it said anything else.

Then it was strapped into the so-called _maintenance chair_ again and he was sure _both_ of them were screaming but he couldn’t hear that either.

Steve was sure he’d never felt so helpless in his life. He should be able to stop this. The circumstances had been under his control. It wasn’t like his mother’s illness or Bucky’s fall and it went on and on and on.

When it was over and the head piece disengaged, his throat felt raw and his cheeks were wet. The rest of him was numb as he watched Rumlow’s back as he said something to it. It raised its head. _Ready to comply_ , he read from its lips.

The tech team released it from the chair. They ran a few quick checks including shining a light in its eyes. It stood and walked out of the room ahead of Rumlow.

No one even looked at Steve. There was no point in asking any more questions. Even if anyone responded, he couldn’t hear their words.

He watched the techs wipe the chair down. The disinfectant was loud in his nose. It was the only sensation that seemed at all real.

Steve sat. He waited.

They couldn’t make him disappear. He still believed that. He wouldn’t go missing.

But they could hurt him like this. And now everyone knew it, he was sure it would happen again.

And again.

And again.

As many times as they decided were necessary to break him.

Steve hadn’t been whole for a long time. Somehow, that didn’t feel like an advantage.


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, we've made it to 70 chapters, which is how many I originally estimated for this fic. 
> 
> Thank you for 378 comments, 366 kudos, and over 150 subscriptions!

“Gotta do what we gotta do. Sorry, Cap,” was all Rumlow said when he came to release him hours later.

Steve flinched. Everything was so loud. He’d been left alone to stare at the chair and think.

He had to be who he thought he was. Even if he was wrong, he—

_No. I am Steven Grant Rogers, born July 4th, 1918 to Sarah and Joseph Rogers in Brooklyn and I am NOT letting HYDRA confuse me._

Steve knew what he should do for the mission. It wasn’t the same thing as what he _needed_ to do as a person with a conscience.

He needed to do a better job of being Steve Rogers. Steve picked fights. Steve broke laws and ignored orders to do what was right. Steve held Bucky Barnes more sacred than any oath he had ever sworn.

He was going to fail this mission. He couldn’t do anything else and live with himself.

“What can _possibly_ justify what I’ve seen and done in the last twelve hours,” he demanded. He could take sandpaper to his _soul_ and still not get clean.

He didn’t get up. If he did, it would be to punch Rumlow. He’d wait for a better opportunity.

“Do what you’re supposed to for the next ten days and maybe the Secretary will authorize me to tell you,” said Rumlow. He crossed his arms, actually looking pained. “I thought we were doing okay. I thought you were adjusting. What the fuck, Steve.”

Steve snorted mirthlessly. “Right.” Of _course_ answers about HYDRA’s plan would be dangled in front of him just when he’d decided not to go along with the abuse anymore.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Ten days?” Steve would lose his mind if he had to stay here another ten days.

“Fury cleared it. You get this one pass but you gotta go back to the Retreat and get your head right.”

It was hard to know what to make of that. Rumlow could be lying. Fury might really be trying to give him a break. Isolation in a remote cabin surrounded by a laser fence while under constant surveillance wasn’t what Steve would call relaxing but it wouldn’t be the first time SHIELD had decided to send him there. Maybe people today didn’t mind that sort of thing.

Privacy was a thing of the past. Like Steve.

“Hey, no need for the long face,” Rumlow told him. “You won’t be alone this time. Seems like you need some lower-stakes practice with the asset to get comfortable again. This mission was… a lot.”

Steve huffed in unamused agreement.

“We shouldn’t have thrown punishment and wiping at you on the same day. Think we confused you. The wipes _aren’t_ punishment. They’re necessary maintenance. You’ll see.”

Glaring, Steve said, “They’re why the asset doesn’t remember.”

“That’s right,” confirmed the HYDRA Commander and Steve’s face must have given him away. “Fuck’s sake, Rogers. The asset _is not and never was_ the real Barnes. We’re not taking anything it needs to know or understand. It’s better this way.”

“For SHIELD?” Steve challenged, impressing himself with his own restraint. He hadn’t learned enough about HYDRA, but at least he’d learned to better control his temper. The thought was sour.

“You’ve seen how it gets confused. We can’t have it thinking it belongs to Soviet HYDRA when it wakes up in an American SHIELD base. But it’s better for the asset too.”

“How is that _better_?” His fists were clenched so hard they hurt. “And if the asset isn’t Bucky, how the hell does it know so much?”

He didn’t want it to be true for Bucky’s sake, but he couldn’t deny the mounting evidence without questioning everything _he_ knew. For his own sanity, he had to know one way or the other.

Rumlow sighed and half-turned toward the big double doors they’d first come through. There was no one there. “You don’t want to know, Steve,” he said, voice low, strained, sincere. “I could tell you, but trust me, buddy, you don’t want to know.”

Steve didn’t trust him.

He didn’t speak to Steve again until the asset marched him to a SUV with dark tinted windows and even then it was only to tell him to buckle up before the asset had to do it for him.

They drove to an airfield. The asset piloted a quinjet to a place that was _not_ the Retreat Steve had been sent to back when he was new to this century.

He tried to get the asset’s attention but barely received a glance. Rumlow hadn’t reintroduced him as a handler. The asset ignored him as completely as it had so many missions ago.


	71. Chapter 71

“Where are we? This isn’t the same place.” For a start, the building was bigger and older. It looked well maintained from the outside and recently renovated on the inside. Steve tried to spot the perimeter but the asset propelled him through the door with a hand on his back.

The asset moved ahead to clear the cabin. It was largely open-plan so it didn’t take long. It nodded to Rumlow, who waved it away.

“Am I a prisoner?” Steve demanded.

Rumlow sighed heavily. The asset cast a glance at them from where it had started performing an inventory check of the kitchen cupboards.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Rumlow questioned tiredly. “You attacked agents, Steve. You’re lucky all you have to do is take a break and get a psych eval.”

This was the first Steve heard of any of evaluation. He crossed his arms and glowered at Rumlow defiantly.

“Oh, come on, Rogers,” Rumlow groaned. “You gotta admit you’re getting off lightly.”

“I don’t need a psych eval,” Steve said.

He felt eyes on the back of his head and turned to catch the asset’s incredulous stare before it went back to checking items off on its clipboard.

Rumlow snorted. “You need your head examined more than anyone else I know and that’s sayin’ something with what we do. The asset hasn’t even been prompted to remember you and _it_ thinks you need looking at.”

Steve glared. He was trying not to think of how _Bucky_ that expression had been.

“You got any idea how many agents would _kill_ for a private retreat with a freshly wiped and stable Winter Soldier?”

_More than I want to think about._

“It’s not the asset I have a problem with,” Steve growled. He wished futilely for his shield.

“Coulda fooled me.” Rumlow shrugged. “All it wants is a chance to show you how good it can be. You’re the one keeps causing trouble.”

“Maybe because the Winter Soldier program is _wrong_.”

Shaking his head, Rumlow said, “Wasn’t our idea and our way is a hell of a lot better than the alternatives. What’ll it take to convince you, Steve? We’ve been over this. Has it ever been anything but eager for you except when you were punishing it?”

“That’s not the point. It’s rape.”

There was a creak behind. When Steve looked, the asset was easing its grip on the clipboard.

“Got something to say, asset?” Rumlow asked, smirking with an edge of nastiness when it nodded warily. “Go ahead,” he prompted.

“You can’t rape me. I don’t say no.”

“That’s not what the sexual harassment training taught me,” Steve retorted. “Anything but clear and enthusiastic informed consent is not consent.” The poor woman running the training seminar had repeated that so many times Steve had started to feel offended. What kind of man did she think he was?

_But look where you are now, what you’ve done._

“People don’t ask weapons or sex toys if they agree to be used. I am designed to be used. It is my purpose. Consent to such uses is implied by my existence as an asset.”

“Like I asked,” Rumlow repeated, “has it ever been anything but clear and enthusiastic about sex with you?”

“Jesus, Rumlow! Is your concept of consent _that fucked up_?” Steve exploded.

“That’s a _no_ , asset,” Rumlow said dryly, ignoring Steve’s outburst. “You love his attention.”

It studied Steve silently while he struggled with violent impulses toward Rumlow. Bucky-blues widened slightly. Did they brighten with recognition or was it his imagination?

The asset frowned at him with narrowed eyes.

It had been his imagination.

“Asset. Come introduce yourself. Properly,” ordered Rumlow.

Instantly, the asset put the clipboard down on a shelf and moved to kneel between them, facing Steve. “I am a Winter Soldier,” it began, the same spiel as that first introduction at the Triskelion.

_I’m in Hell. This can’t be happening again._

“You know who this guy is?” Rumlow asked.

The asset gazed up at Steve. “ _Steve Rogers_ ,” it breathed. “ _That_ Steve Rogers. _Captain America._ ”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. It was hard to speak past the lump in his throat.

It shot Rumlow a look of confused inquiry.

He chuckled. “Go finish your task, asset, and we’ll reward you after.”

The asset nearly teleported in its haste to obey.


	72. Chapter 72

“We _will_?” Steve challenged. “I don’t want any part of this. I can’t do it anymore. I won’t.”

No need to wonder about the asset’s assignment. It was busywork meant to keep it focused on a task. This might be a Retreat, but it wouldn’t be a break for anyone.

“Relax, Rogers. Orgasms are for missions.”

Steve was glad Rumlow was calling him by his last name again. He grit his teeth. If rewarding the asset with orgasms was really what mattered, they wouldn’t be using it to get themselves off.

He said as much.

Rolling his eyes, Rumlow said, “Did someone put _you_ in the chair? It’s like you’ve forgotten everything about the program. It’s about _dominance_. Things are better for it the way we do them. You’ll see.”

”Not likely,” Steve snapped. 

Rumlow sighed. “We won’t be fucking it tonight.”

”I’m not _ever_ -“ Steve started but he was cut off. 

“I’m thinking dinner, a movie, and some petting. Let’s hope eating something makes you less grumpy. Fuck’s sake, Rogers.”

Over a day had passed since his last meal. His stomach had long since given up growling for attention, replaced by persistent low level nausea he couldn’t entirely attribute to his emotions. Low blood sugar probably _was_ contributing to his mood. 

“Thought you said no dates with the asset,” he retorted. 

“I think you’ll find these movies educational,” countered Rumlow. 

“Finished, Commander.” It didn’t even glance at Steve.

Rumlow took the clipboard and scanned the checklist. “Whoever was here before us musta had a sweet tooth and skipped the restock request,“ he muttered. “Damn. Let’s just get the show started. You got ready-to-eat rations until I decide what to do about dinner.”

There was no point to refusing to sit on the couch but Steve did anyway, at least until Rumlow ordered the asset to escort him there. It pushed him down and then sat sideways in his lap. Futilely, he tried to dislodge it and stand up. In response, it pinned both his wrists down against the back cushions and melted its upper body against his chest. 

“Please,” it whispered.

Steve struggled again. The asset squeezed his wrists until they hurt.

“Please.” There was open desperation in the whisper.

He stilled reluctantly, certain he was making a mistake. It was a manipulation. The asset couldn’t remember him yet. It only recognized him as Captain America.

Bucky’s face smiled weakly at him as the asset relaxed its grip.

With a hard swallow, Steve looked away. He couldn’t trust anything it did or said. Hints of Bucky’s habit of looking out for him or not, the Winter Soldier wasn’t his ally here and now. Because it was Bucky, he was helpless before it. Because it was the Winter Soldier, it was helpless before a handler.

Rumlow could control both of them and he knew it. Physically fighting wouldn’t get Steve anywhere unless he was willing to hurt the asset. That didn’t mean he had to stop resisting altogether.

Evidently satisfied when Steve’s struggles subsided, Rumlow dropped onto the other end of the couch. “We’ll start with some of the early training footage. Show you how it learned to be Barnes.”

“Rum-!” He nearly choked on the chunk of chalky meal bar shoved into his mouth by the asset. He tried to push it away with his newly free hand but faltered at the stormy rage directed at him. It pressed its right hand over his mouth until he chewed and swallowed.

“Well done, asset,” Rumlow praised.


	73. Chapter 73

Once the asset was convinced Steve had given up his attempts to escape for the time being, it scooted over so its legs remained draped over his lap but it sat between Steve and Rumlow.

Miserably, Steve was reminded of the restraining bars on roller coasters. 

He’d never enjoyed those either.

Another type of torture, most likely. Steve hated being helpless. 

That was unfair of him. He knew what torture was like, even if he hadn’t been the victim.

_Don’t think about it._

The movies were predictably horrible. What he hadn’t predicted was how _boring_ they might be. The first one was a grainy old surveillance video of the asset sitting at a table a small windowless room studying a pile of files and photographs. Every so often, it stopped to make notes on a pad of paper. 

A man in an unfamiliar military uniform Steve assumed was Russian walked into the frame and stood against the wall, watching it. There was no sound.

Rumlow provided narration. “You’ll have seen some of these before but not the ones this early.”

Terrible quality or not, the video was at least in color. Had the video been colorized? The Winter Soldier’s hair was shorter. When he opened his mouth to speak, the asset shoved the rest of the meal bar between his lips before he got a sound out.

It glared while he chewed. Did it only follow the instruction not to look at Steve when he had handler privileges?

“The Barnes Protocols are set of programmed conditions under which the asset may act according to one of multiple scenarios. The scenarios range from allowing it to mimic some vocal patterns and behaviors to several options for full immersion in Barnes’ identity with a variety of explanations for its appearance. The skillset is intended for infiltration, to gain access to targets, although it has…” Rumlow paused with a badly-concealed smirk. “It has other uses.”

Addressing the asset, voice thick with crumbs, Steve asked weakly, “You can make yourself think you’re really him?” He didn’t want to speculate about the reason for the smirk.

It nodded. 

“How does that work?”

The asset looked confused, appealing mutely to Rumlow. When Rumlow shook his head, it dropped its eyes without answering.

“You’re not cleared for that information yet, Steve,” Rumlow told him. “But it’s all a matter of programming and conditioning.”

“Why the hell are you showing any of this to me if you’re not gonna explain?” Steve demanded.

Something crinkled loudly against his right palm. Another meal bar, pressed between his hand and the asset’s. When he didn’t move, the asset exhaled in something between a huff and a sigh and took it back, tearing it open with its teeth before holding the bar in front of Steve’s mouth. 

“You better let it take care of you,” Rumlow warned. “And stop talking. Here comes something you’ll be interested to see. Just calm down and maybe you’ll learn something.”

Another objection was thwarted by the forceful introduction of more food to Steve's mouth.

“Stop that!” Steve hissed once he’d recovered.

It looked to Rumlow, who smiled at it and brought up a hand to squeeze the junction of its neck and shoulder. It tensed and then relaxed its back against Rumlow’s side. “That’s right, Soldier. You only follow my orders for now.”

The asset nodded. It held up the meal bar for Steve again. 

Deciding to pick his battles, Steve reluctantly leaned forward and took another bite. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks but his body needed the calories anyway. If he didn’t eat, he’d just get weaker.

On screen, the man in the uniform stepped away from the wall.

“Here we go,” Rumlow said quietly.

Very carefully, the asset focused on feeding Steve without looking at the television. He could feel the tension in the legs trapping him on the couch.

The man said something. The asset on screen looked up, eyes wide and expression somewhere between wary and blank. Another command and its mouth twisted into a horrible approximation of Bucky’s easy smile. 

Above the smile, Bucky’s eyes were utterly lifeless.

_Of course they were. The guy in that video’s got nothing to smile about._

“Didn’t used to be so good at actin’ the part,” said Rumlow. 

_The asset is, was, Bucky. Must be. This proves nothing. None of the so-called evidence proves anything._

The scene changed. Bucky, or the asset, was sitting on a cot in a plain concrete cell, scribbling furiously in a notebook. A woman with wavy dark hair came to the bars. Bucky looked up, a heartbreaking expression of guarded hope flashing across his face before morphing into sullen defiance. The angle was wrong to try to lip read. She seemed to be asking for the notebook because Bucky clutched it tighter and glared, withdrawing into the corner as much as he could.

“It got better at it. HYDRA would set up these little roleplays for it to act out. This one is pretending to be Barnes in SHIELD custody.”

_That’s supposed to be Peggy?_ Now that he had the idea, it was obvious. _Oh, Bucky._ It was so cruel.

Another uniformed man walked up next to the fake Peggy. At a single barked command, Bucky relaxed, set the notebook down, and stood, blank-faced. The asset.

Steve startled from a light touch to his jaw. He’d been clenching it so hard it ached. The asset leaned toward him and offered another piece of meal bar. The prospect of nutrition meant his stomach was waking up. He accepted it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

The asset blinked rapidly and lowered its gaze. Rumlow was rubbing its neck again.

“The asset _likes_ being touched, Rogers,” Rumlow prompted softly. “You gonna go anywhere if I get up?”

Grudgingly, Steve shook his head. What would be the point?

“Good. Watch the video and be nice to our Winter Soldier. Gonna make some real food.”


	74. Chapter 74

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over 400 kudos and comments! Thank you so much!

Rumlow made spaghetti from a box and added a can of meat sauce from the cupboard.

Steve was aware of his movements but he kept his attention on the TV and the asset. The clips switched between study and practice scenarios. The asset had rearranged itself to put its face in his stomach and its arms around his chest.

Almost of it’s own accord, his hand went to its hair. Bucky had been a tactile guy. Petting was safer than nearly anything else he could do right now. He tentatively ran his fingers through dark hair. The asset did seem to like it.

High-pitched whistling caught his attention and he jerked his head around to find the source.

A bag of something from the freezer that smelled of cheese and vegetables was steaming in the microwave. Rumlow swore quietly and opened the microwave door to shut it off.

Steve resumed stroking the head in his lap.

The Winter Soldier sighed and tension leaked out of neck and shoulders.

Then there was a burst of unexpected white noise and a muffled cry and it took Steve half a second to realize the next clip had sound to accompany a glimpse of a man chained to a bed.

The asset pressed its face into his gut.

The screen went dark. “That’s enough for now,” said Rumlow. He set the remote on the kitchen counter. “Come eat. Both of you.”

The interruption was both a welcome relief and highly frustrating. Steve didn’t want to know the content of that next clip, but he needed all the information he could glean. However long he was trapped here, this was his last chance.

“Here’s the deal, Rogers,“ Rumlow told him, “if you eat, we don’t have to talk tonight.”

“Fine by me,” he muttered. The asset’s arms tightened around him for an instant before it pulled away and they both stood. 

Steve ate for fuel, barely tasting the food he chewed and swallowed. Across the table, the asset did the same, but Steve kept his attention on Rumlow.

Could he take ten more days of this? Ten days and nights while Rumlow decided if he’d earned whatever breadcrumbs Pierce or his other HYDRA superiors had chosen to offer as a reward for compliance? Then there was also the threat of whatever had been meant by _psychological evaluation_. Anyone who called themselves _doctor_ and worked for HYDRA could be trusted about as far as Steve could have thrown them before the serum. Rumlow had been pushing for Steve to see one and he didn’t want to find out why without reliable backup.

No, Steve had to get out before they cut their losses and did to him what he _knew_ they’d done to Bucky. He couldn’t blame Bucky for being made into the asset and he couldn’t fool himself that he was any more stubborn and resilient than Bucky had been. 

Eating did make him feel better. He hated the part of him that was grateful to Rumlow for making sure he ate. That line of thought would make it easier for HYDRA to brainwash him.

 _You’re not my fucking handler,_ Brock _, and I won’t let you win._

Wait, he’d had this conversation with Romanoff. Was this the point he needed to pretend to lose so they would share information?

No. This situation was too dangerous now and he’d promised Natasha he wouldn’t let himself be brainwashed. It was time to stop trying to salvage his infiltration mission and extract himself. 

And rescue Bucky. Even if he had to go AWOL and burn down HYDRA to do it. It wouldn’t be the first time. As long as no one knew he’d been trying to infiltrate for SHIELD, his mission wasn’t a complete failure.

Steve took another mouthful of tasteless pasta. 

Shield or no shield, it felt good to be a man with a plan again.


	75. Chapter 75

“Going for a run,“ Steve said. He’d spent the mostly sleepless night considering his options.

The door was right there. Before he resorted to violence, he had to at least try.

Getting up before Rumlow sure hadn’t worked. He wasn’t convinced the man had done anything but watch him all night. Taking him alive for questioning would be useful, but the asset’s presence made that damn near impossible.

Rumlow raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? Take the asset with you. It could use the exercise too. Just keep away from the perimeter. The defenses are automated.“ He looked at the asset. “Asset. Maintain a five meter distance. При необходимости используйте силу.” He smiled at Steve, all teeth. “Don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

 _Don’t test the bars and we can pretend you’re not a prisoner_ , Steve interpreted sourly. “Sure. Can you show me the boundaries, Soldier?”

The asset glanced at Rumlow. It was dressed in loose black pants and a lightweight dark gray long-sleeved shirt with black leather gloves, hair tied back. With its hair out of its face and the silver arm covered, it looked more like Bucky than ever.

Rumlow shrugged. “Been here often enough. You’ll know the way.”

Bucky’s pale eyes flickered as the asset turned a distantly considering gaze on the door, eyebrows slightly drawn in thought. After a few seconds, it nodded.

Steve's prison yard wasn't that much larger than the first Retreat had been. True dawn was still maybe half an hour away and the grass was wet with dew. He was glad for his modern footwear. The boots he had worn during the war would have been soaked through before he’d completed one lap. The asset kept pace with him, staying between Steve and the nearly invisible perimeter. Steve wondered what Rumlow had said in Russian. Nothing that would do Steve any good.

Three circuits and Steve was about ready to jump out of his skin, body wrapped in invisible coils of tension. If he could get past the lasers with the Winter Soldier still following...

Under other circumstances, feeling like this, he might have run himself into exhaustion. That wasn’t an option here and now. He couldn’t let himself waste too much energy and he needed to think.

As he ran, he searched for anything resembling a gap or exploitable flaw in the perimeter. If he’d had the shield, getting out would have been easy. In the back of his mind, he heard Bucky groan in exasperation at Steve’s tendency to let himself be separated from his weapon.

He did his best to push it from his mind. Bucky was here, only feet away, matching him stride for stride the way only another supersoldier could.

 _Because you were made to match_ suggested that small voice of doubt he’d had to suppress since his conversation with the Winter Soldier.

_Shut up. Don’t think about it. It’s not true. I volunteered for the serum. I’m not a Winter Soldier. I’m Steve Rogers._

At the same time, that doubting part of himself offered, _And even if I’m not the original Steve Rogers, HYDRA will regret ever letting any version of me be defrosted._

He slowed to a light jog, still faster than most unenhanced people could run.

When he came to a stop, the asset did the same, drifting just outside arm’s reach.

Steve regarded what was left of Bucky until he couldn't anymore and looked away into the trees.

The side of his face and neck itched under the other supersoldier’s attention, like the asset’s stare could burn him like the sun.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Steve said hoarsely. He’d been crying for the last several minutes without realizing it. He wiped at his eyes angrily.

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not him, Captain.”

“I know,” admitted Steve heavily. “And I’m sorry for wanting him back when you’re trying your best. But you were my Bucky. I know you were. And someone will pay for that.”

They looked at each other, the Winter Soldier making no effort to avoid eye contact.

Then Bucky’s knees hit the wet grass with a soft thump. “Please.” It was a whisper, low and desperate. “I’m not him, but I could be yours. You could make me him. The Commander can teach you.”

He swallowed, mouth dry and lips tacky. He licked them and swallowed again. “Why?” he managed. He understood what it was doing. The asset wasn’t stupid.

 _Please don’t leave me. Don’t make me hurt you._ God he hated HYDRA.

“HYDRA made me to be a good asset and a good Bucky,” it elaborated in a rough whisper, staring at the grass in front of its knees. “Please, cooperate and comply. We fit together so well. Don’t you remember how good it was when you gave in?”

“Good? Bucky, that was a goddamn fucking nightmare. We were drugged.”

Bucky’s scowl had more than a little hurt in it. “You gave me permission to touch.”

“Yeah. You’re not the one to blame, Buck.”

Leather gloves creaked as the asset looked away. “You shouldn’t call me his name unless you’re ordering me to be him.”

“You _are_ him!”

Shadowed eyes met his, seeking, before dropping away again. “You don’t have that authority. The Secretary said you could earn it, but you don’t try.”

“I have tried!” Steve realized he was on the verge of shouting and repeated himself in a whisper. “I have tried. But I can’t go on hurting you.”

“Your solution is to leave me to handlers who enjoy hurting me more than you do.”

“No!” Steve protested. “I want you to escape with me.”

The Winter Soldier just stared at him. And then began to laugh.

Steve stood and waited it out, irritation and embarrassment warring with the fear and anxiety.

The asset said, “Impossible. You’re insane. We’ve got trackers. Even if you disable yours, there's nowhere you won't be found. The organization's influence is everywhere.”

“Not everywhere,” he argued. “That’s not possible.”

“They will hurt me more with you gone,” said the asset, ignoring him.

“Then come with me!”

“We aren’t prisoners, we’re assets. Good supersoldiers comply. Compliance isn’t optional. We would be found. Bad supersoldiers are punished and frozen.”

Steve took a shuddering breath and ran his hands over his face. _Fuck_. _I just can’t get through._ To Bucky or through the fence. He was stuck and the asset was immovable.

Capitalizing on his silence, the asset pressed, “It doesn’t have to be that way. Cooperate. Learn to be a good handler. The Commander can teach you. Today. The Barnes Protocols. I can be Bucky for you. We can stay together. It will be easier to protect each other if the Commander sees no reason to have us separated.”

Every time he decided he had to end his mission, he was offered another reason to stay and give them opportunities to break him.

Another day could mean another day of not having to risk fighting Bucky. It meant opportunities for Steve too.

He needed more time to think. He needed a better plan for getting out of this place.

“Get up, Soldier,” he ordered tiredly.

The asset stood, cautious but hopeful.

“Never was good at quitting,” Steve said, and began trudging back toward the building.


	76. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Jasherk for improving my Russian again. 
> 
> Over 10k hits! Thank you! 
> 
> I hate to sound like I’m complaining when I’ve got such great regular comments from a handful of lovely readers but I’d love to occasionally hear from some of the other 150+ of you who subscribe to this fic?

About twenty feet from the door, Steve asked, “You sure about this?”

The asset nodded.

_Why the fuck did I ask that? For all I know, Bucky’s just repeating what he’s been told to say. How do I word a better question?_

“What’s your ideal outcome, Soldier?”

Brows knit in a slight frown. “You are the one permitted to want.”

So much for that idea.

He made his voice as soft and quiet as he could. “What do you think I should want?”

“I can’t,” began the asset but Steve had an idea.

“Hey. I don’t have the authority to punish you now and I wouldn’t anyway. You can tell me. It’s only information, not like you’re telling me what to do.”

Wary and suspicious or not, he got his answer. It was so quiet even supersoldier ears had difficulty hearing the words over the rustle of trees and the early morning chorus of birds.

“Me. As your asset and your Bucky.”

 _You are! I do! But it’s so_ wrong _, Buck._

He couldn’t help the warmth that settled in his chest alongside the rest of his tangled emotions. Wrong or not, he’d always longed for Bucky to tell him his wanting was wanted, even as he’d always feared the same. 

“Why?”

The Winter Soldier wasn’t bound by the same restrictions that had kept them apart in the past, but, if anything, the reasons were more dire than before. 

“Nothing you do could be worse than…”

The asset trailed off, attention refocused past him and Steve turned to find Rumlow opening the door, eyebrows raised.

“...no you,” Bucky finished in a whisper.

_Goddamn it._

Ignoring Rumlow entirely, Steve stepped into the asset’s personal space, put an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close.

Bucky trembled and looked down.

Steve kissed him on the forehead and whispered into his ear. “Thank you for telling me. You’re so brave. Thank you. I needed to hear that. Well done. Thank you.”

 _He wants me. None of this is right but he_ wants _me. I’m not just another handler. He wants_ me _._

Wide blue eyes met his as Bucky jerked his head up, searching. Steve did his best to put every possible ounce of sincerity into his words and expression. “I won’t go without you. You’re not alone. Whatever happens,” he promised, and swallowed hard, “I’m with you. I’m with you to… to the end of the line, pal.” He stumbled through the assurance Bucky had given him a lifetime ago, hoping for some flicker of recognition.

There was none. The asset _did_ look relieved, though, and Steve had to take that as his win.

Had to. Because Steve was about to let himself lose and he was afraid to discover how much. 

He stepped away and dropped his hand to catch the asset’s as they walked toward Rumlow, whose eyebrows were trying to climb off his face.

“Good run?” Rumlow questioned as they stopped in front of him. He was blocking the door.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Really helped to get things straight. You were right.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve made himself smile. “The asset is very persuasive.”

“Uh huh,” said Rumlow, giving away nothing.

“What’s the agenda today?” Steve asked and made himself push past, still leading the asset by the hand. “More movies?” He headed for the kitchen area in search of fast calories. Looking through the pantry required both hands but the asset didn’t move away.

“To start. Then some light training. Put the asset through its paces.”

A bag of salted roasted almonds. That would do. “Okay.” He put a handful in his mouth and passed the bag to Bucky with a nod. While he chewed, he found a box of Ritz crackers and a can of spray cheese. Beef jerky. 

He finished chewing and turned around with the food to find Rumlow frowning at him.

”What?”

”You feeling okay, Steve?” 

”Starving, but a lot better. Food, sleep, and exercise, you know?”

The HYDRA agent’s eyes moved from Steve to the asset, who was already most of the way through the almonds, and back to Steve. 

"Uh huh. And the sudden change of heart? After yesterday..."

"I'm, uh, trying not to think about yesterday too much. I can't..." Steve shuddered at the involuntary memory of the pain and violation he'd been part of inflicting on Bucky the day before. 

 _Don't think about it._ He thought of Bucky on his knees in the wet grass begging Steve to stay. He thought of those quiet words:  _Your asset and your Bucky._  

Bucky wouldn't let himself be rescued. He didn't understand the situation they were in or remember what side he should be on. Steve had to accept that Bucky was the asset, not just that the asset was Bucky. That wouldn't be right or fair.

 _I'm sorry, Bucky. I can't imagine wanting to be thought of as a Winter Soldier, but you're_ not me _. We've always been different people and I don't know what you've lived through or had to do to survive. If what you need is for me to stay and be your handler, I have to try to make the best of it. You won't leave with me and I won't leave without you. I'm so sorry._

Much as he wanted to, he couldn't do the right thing here if it meant seriously injuring and kidnapping Bucky as well as blowing his mission. 

Rumlow was talking again, promising they'd take it slow again and that the punishment and wipes were worst of what Steve would have to see. "Low stakes training while we're here. Remember what I said about getting in a rhythm with it?"

"Like a horse," Steve said, making an effort to focus only on the moment. He couldn't think about the future. It just made him want to hit something and Rumlow was a tempting target.

He had to take care of the asset. Food. Affection. Eventually, he'd try to give him, it, safety.

Food first.

Steve's stomach growled audibly. He tore open the jerky and stuffed two pieces in his mouth before extending the bag to Bucky. The asset. He had to go back to thinking of him, it, as the asset again.

”Dammit, Rogers, don’t feed it junk food,” snapped Rumlow. 

The asset froze, jerky between its teeth ready for a first bite.

"C'mon, weren't you feeding it candy before?" Steve countered.

Rumlow snatched the rest of the bag from Steve's hand. "That was... different."

_You mean cruel?_

"Gotta eat something," he said. "Is there anything that won't take half an hour and will give us enough calories? We need protein."

"Breakfast sausages and pancakes," Rumlow snarled, like he was personally offended.

Steve shrugged, not caring if it looked fake. "Jerky and cheese and crackers would be faster and probably more efficient."

Rumlow glared at him. "Asset. Сядь за стол. Не ешь ничего, что даст тебе Капитан. Now give me that box of Bisquick, Steve. And don't think you're fooling anyone."


	77. Chapter 77

“Almost forgot what it’s like to have an appetite,” Steve commented. He’d been shoveling pancakes into his mouth about as fast as Rumlow could slide them off the turner.

In contrast, the asset was chewing slowly, eyes half-shut and movements slow. Rumlow gave him, it, one pancake at a time, visibly adding up the calories in his head just as Steve was doing. He’d had to order the asset to wait for its food.

They’d eaten all the sausages. Rumlow was lucky he’d snagged one for himself right out of the pan or he wouldn’t have had a chance at them. If circumstances had been different, Steve might even have felt guilty. As it was, one advantage of the serum he really appreciated today was the speed at which his burned tongue healed.

“It’ll be easier from now on,” Rumlow promised. He dropped another pancake onto the asset’s freshly cleared plate and poured corn syrup over it. Bucky stared at his HYDRA handler like a dog waiting for permission to eat a treat. “Eat.”

Bucky obeyed, every motion measured.

_Don’t think about it. Rumlow is a handler but you’re more._

“This isn’t the first time I’ve fed the asset pancakes,” Rumlow told him, tone light and conversational. It rang a little false. “Its favorite food treat with the Soviets was syrniki and pancakes are about the only food I can make from scratch if necessary.”

“I didn’t know you could cook at all,” Steve said. In all honesty, he was even more surprised Rumlow admitted to it. “What’s sirnicky?” He could tell he hadn’t said it quite right.

Shrugging, Rumlow said, “Something like a pancake.” He put another couple pancakes on a plate for himself. “Hey, asset. What’s the difference between syrniki and pancakes?”

Focused again, Bucky swallowed his bite of food and licked his lips. “I don’t remember, Commander.” His eyes darted between them.

Rumlow nodded. “Good, asset. You don’t need to.”

Some of Bucky’s, _the asset’s,_ tension eased.

“But food rewards aren’t enough?” Steve ventured, pushing his plate away as Rumlow sat down. Nearly half a pancake left, but he couldn’t care. Of course HYDRA didn’t think Bucky needed to remember what foods he liked.

“Asset?” Rumlow gestured at Bucky with a fork. The asset.

“Food rewards encourage selfishness. I exist to serve. The best reward for me reinforces submission and desire to please.”

Steve took a series of deep slow breaths, willing his breakfast to stay where it was. He succeeded, barely. _Don’t think about it._ He sipped at his glass of water while his companions finished eating. The silence gnawed at Steve like a rat trying to get into his boots while he forced himself to lie still in frozen mud. Companions was the wrong word. Rumlow was essentially his captor and Bucky was… was...  _your asset and your Bucky._

A fork scraped on an empty plate. “Here, I’ll take that,” Steve blurted, pushing his chair back as he grabbed for and stacked the dishes. “You cooked.” He couldn’t stay seated one more second and Sarah Rogers hadn’t raised a barbarian.

Eyebrows raised again, Rumlow said, “Sure.”

The sink was divided, so Steve put the dishes on the right side and reached for the faucet.

Rumlow laughed abruptly and Steve turned on the hot water tap so quickly it almost snapped.

“You should have KP anyway and you know it.”

Difficult as it was to hold his tongue, Steve had nothing productive to say so he stayed silent and focused on scrubbing the syrup away. He’d had KP duty once in his life, at LeHigh during training, and almost passed out from the hot damp air. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from talking back to an officer who’d been wondering aloud about the right of _women and cripples_ to be involved with the SSR.

At least this mission was teaching him to keep a lid on his temper. It wouldn’t be any help to remind anyone that Steve was only at the Retreat, or whatever this place was, under duress.

“Asset. Come,” said Rumlow. He went to the door. “I could use a bit of fresh air.”

Or, more likely, a chance to talk to the asset out of Steve’s earshot.

He washed the dishes, leaving them to dry in the dishrack next to the sink. It might have been tempting to palm a knife or something, but doing so was pointless with Bucky, the _asset_ , there. Instead, he dried his hands and went to sit on the couch to wait.

While he waited, he tried not to speculate on what Rumlow and Bucky were doing. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help it and he couldn’t ignore the probability that the Winter Soldier would tell Rumlow about Steve’s desire to escape with Bucky.

If Rumlow brought it up, Steve would admit to it. Nat, Romanoff, had given him good advice so far. _Don’t lie if you can avoid it. Give them a truth they’ll find more appealing._ So what could he say?

_I know the asset was Bucky._

He’d already told Rumlow as much.

_HYDRA did something to him, or maybe it was the fall. Both._

There wasn’t any denying that.

_I know he doesn’t remember. I tried, but he won’t believe me if I tell him._

That would be appealing, right? He could only pray it wasn’t true, or wouldn’t continue to be true.

_I don’t want to hurt who he is now. Trying to make him be Bucky again, the way I remember, isn't fair to the Winter Soldier._

However much it hurt, that was true enough.

_He was my best friend. The asset is important to me too. All I ever wanted was for him to be safe and happy. If I can't do that, if he's really gone, then I want... I want that for the Winter Soldier now. The asset asked me to stay. If the way to make it happy and keep it as safe as I can is to do whatever it takes to stay its handler, then that's what I'm gonna do._

_Even if that means hurting it. Even if that means fucking it. It not… it’s not rape if it wants me._

It would _never_ be able to give true consent but Steve thought he could pass off the lie as part of his continuing internal conflict.

_If whatever Bucky has become is happier to be the Winter Soldier pretending to be Bucky Barnes, then I want that for it. Maybe we’ll be needed to fight until the day we die, but I want to give it a chance to be whatever version of Bucky makes it happy._

_I want it. I think… maybe it’s okay to have it if it wants me too. Maybe Bucky would understand._

Steve hated how much he wanted that to be true. _Your asset and your Bucky._

The Winter Soldier had his number.

Unfortunately, so did Rumlow.

“Okay,” Rumlow said. He’d sent the asset outside to run so they could talk. “Let’s talk.”

Extemporaneous speaking was something Steve was good at. He’d had time to plan what to say this time. He could do this.

“The asset isn’t Bucky,” he said.

Rumlow’s eyebrows went up. “Huh. Okay.”

”But it’s what’s left of him,” Steve clarified. “After the fall and whatever HYDRA did to him.”

“Steve…” Rumlow started.

He cut him off. If he stopped speaking, he might not be able to get the rest. He didn't have to convince Rumlow that the asset was Bucky. He only had to convince Rumlow that Steve was finally ready to get with the program. “There’s no way it _didn’t_ start as Bucky. It’s too familiar with me. It knows me, even without memories.”

The HYDRA agent crossed his arms. “It’s a good actor, trained for this role, and it wants your sympathy and attention. You haven’t seen all the early stuff from when HYDRA was developing it. It isn’t him.” He glanced toward the door, as if the asset would deviate from its orders and walk in, and lowered his voice. “There’s no Bucky here to save and we ain’t the enemy, Steve. You’ll see that. A few more days and the cracks will start to show. Running away with it and pretending it’s your friend will just get you both hurt.”

Jaw set, Steve shook his head. “I know it’s him. But you’re right. I tried to convince it and it couldn’t even entertain the idea of leaving with me. I won't apologize for trying, but I know now that was a mistake. It won’t believe me and I never wanted to hurt the asset even before I knew. I don’t want to hurt who Bucky is now. He was my best friend, but trying to make it be Bucky again, the way I remember, isn't fair to the Winter Soldier. It needs a handler and it wants me, or close enough. I can’t leave with it and won’t leave without it. I want it as happy and safe as it can be. So I have to give your way a fair shake, for the asset’s sake. I’ll do whatever I have to do to stay its handler. I can worry about reform later if I have to. I won’t abandon it now, even if that means hurting or… rewarding it, however I have to.”

“Not buyin’ it, Cap,” Rumlow said. “You haven’t changed your mind, not that much. Maybe you can fool yourself for a day or so but you’ll start to struggle again and we both know it. Didn’t I say you’d make a terrible covert agent?”

Not about to be shaken now, Steve met his eyes steadily. “Maybe. I know I’ve done it before. But if yesterday really was the worst of it, I can deal with it.”

Rumlow shook his head a little. Somehow, that had been the wrong answer. “Have it your way. Let’s see if you can handle having everything you think you want.” He went to the door and called out to the asset. “Asset! Подвал. Ты знаешь что делать. Мы запустим сценарий E2.” To Steve, he said, “It was never Barnes, but I guess the asset’ll have to be the one to convince you of that.”


	78. Chapter 78

Steve had picked up a few words of Russian by now. He caught что  _what_ and сценарий  _scenario_.

Scenario E2. Steve didn’t know what it was but it had to be part of the Barnes protocols. He shouldn’t be surprised.

Everything Steve wanted. What could that mean? Bucky? Handling the asset? Answers about HYDRA’s endgame? 

Shit. He was doing this, whatever Rumlow had in mind. God fucking  _damn_ it all to hell. 

He was doing this.

”What’s E2?” he asked warily.

All Rumlow did was smirk and say, “You’ll find out. Now, ‘bout those videos.”

They started with the bed and the chains again. A seemingly endless sampling of... of _the Winter Soldier_ under thrusting bodies. To Steve’s eternal shame, most of it wasn’t much worse to look at than anything he’d already seen or done.

Steve clenched his fists, set his jaw, and made himself watch. “What’s the point of this, Brock?” he demanded after what felt like hours but had probably been less than half of one. The current video starred a naked Winter Soldier with shorter hair being taken from both ends by men wearing the top half of Russian uniforms, roughly but with apparently enthusiastic cooperation. This one didn’t have any sound, for which Steve could only be grateful. He could imagine too well.

The asset (it was much easier to think of it as the asset when Bucky wasn’t there to look at) hadn’t come back inside. Steve tried not to let his imagination run away with him.

“The _point is_ the asset has never been a prisoner. It always took pleasure when it had a chance and it was simple to train it to serve its handlers, just like it was easy to train it to be a Bucky in need of a Steve.”

He swallowed. “You couldn’t have just  _told_ me that?”

Rumlow laughed darkly. “Steve, buddy, don’t you think we know you better than that? You ain’t exactly reasonable about these things. The Russian program was fucked up from the start. You think we’d fuck it if there was any way around it? We’re supposed to be the good guys. You read the report. You  _know_ we had over a dozen casualties before we started treating it right to prevent erratic behavior. It’s better for everyone this way. Look at it.” He gestured to the screen where the Winter Soldier arched his, _its_ , back and pressed into the hands of the soldiers raping, no, _fucking,_  it. “Does it look fucking unhappy to you? This is what it knows, what it needs. It doesn’t need to _escape_. The punishments are just the flip side of the rewards. This shit has to be physical or it doesn’t make an impression.”

Now the Winter Soldier onscreen was kneeling in dark loose pants on the floor of a featureless concrete room, blindfolded with its hands bound over its head attached to a cable from the ceiling, as it sucked a line of men dressed for extreme cold. There was another man sitting in a chair next to it, speaking slowly with a look of patient expectation. The handler was petting the asset’s back and shoulders and it leaned into his leg whenever its head was free.

The man had blond hair.  _Is that Alexander Pierce?_ It could have been, far more than two decades ago.

Steve had to bite his tongue hard enough to hurt. If it was Pierce, this was evidence he had either been HYDRA or working with HYDRA.

Rumlow was watching him. When Steve didn’t say anything, he nodded to himself. “The blindfold helps it focus,” Rumlow went on. “Limits make things easier for it.”

 _Like a horse, again,_ Steve didn’t say. 

“If you’ve been paying attention, you already know that. A handler’s duty is to provide the asset with _order_.”

A deep breath and a sigh before Steve could say, “Yeah, I remember. We gonna watch a bunch of punishments too?”

”Nah,” Rumlow promised, leaning back with his arms crossed. “We both know you’d just dig your heels in again. You know why we’re gonna be here for ten days?”

”We’re on Retreat,” Steve said dryly. Not that he’d believed that for a second.

”Well, sure,” Rumlow agreed, “but our asset’s stable duration out of stasis isn’t ten days.”

 _The cracks will start to show._ “I’m here to see what happens when it gets unstable?”

“That’s right.” Rumlow checked the time and turned off the tv. “So let’s see if the Barnes Protocols are convincing while it’s at its most clear-headed.”


	79. Chapter 79

There must have been another way into the cabin. The asset could move quietly but it hadn’t come back through the door.

_Not important right now. Focus._

A section of the bathroom wall slid aside to reveal a brightly lit flight of stairs down to a hospital-white tiled basement.

“Wait!” Rumlow blurted as he reached for the handrail.

Steve turned back to him, body thrumming with impatience and nervous energy. _I’m right. I know I’m right. Don’t try to stop me. It’s Bucky. I have to be right._

“Steve, before you go down there…” Rumlow grimaced. “There’s something we haven’t told you. Hoped we wouldn’t have to.” He paused, expression contorted with uncustomary uncertainty. “Maybe you should sit down again.”

Reluctant to turn away from the open door _Bucky’s down there. I know it, I know it, I know it. So close!_ Steve set his shoulders and firmed his jaw. “You can tell me right here and now.”

Rumlow scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily. “Barnes didn’t die from the fall.”

A moment of shocked horror and elation rushed through him, the strength of anger and grief almost satisfaction.

“ _What?_ ” Steve demanded, throat thick with too much stopped-up emotion.

 _But…_ Logic left him cold once more. It didn’t make sense. Why would Rumlow admit that?

“Then the asset-”

“Let me finish,“ Rumlow snapped. “The asset nothing. Barnes was found mostly dead by Russian allies of HYDRA who recognized him and knew he shouldn’t have survived. They kept him alive to study for serum research, for the secrets of his own body, and whatever he knew. When Zola was released from SSR custody because of Operation Paperclip, they brought him in again to create new supersoldiers. They’d failed to brainwash Barnes.”

 _Oh, Bucky._ He couldn’t imagine the strength required to resist for so long. So why did Steve feel as much sadness as pride? His hands curled into tight fists. “You’re not doing a great job of convincing me the asset can’t be Bucky.” The words were hoarse and hollow.

“Back when I had to prove I could do what it takes to handle the asset, I had my doubts too. It looks like him and I don’t know any fan of you and the Commandos who never thought about the lack of bodies.”

“But you still don’t believe it’s him.” Paperclip wasn’t a secret, much as it burned him up to think of it. The rest of the story was more than plausible, it fit perfectly. It also made no fucking sense.

_HYDRA lies. There’s a lie in this, somewhere._

Rumlow put a hand on Steve’s arm and looked right at him. “Bucky Barnes died in an experiment in 1952, Steve. They kept his body frozen until 1974, when the Russians determined they had the capability to create a ringer, one HYDRA would control.”

There was a grim sort of vindication in knowing this was the lie. _No, he didn’t and they didn’t. I can’t believe that._

“You really believed that? Or just couldn’t take the guilty conscience?” Steve grit out. He shook off Rumlow’s hand.

There was no change in the man’s face that might indicate dishonesty. Not that Steve could detect.

Not that he could trust Rumlow’s face. Rumlow was a professional liar and Steve wasn’t Romanoff.

_Either Rumlow was lied to or he’s lying to me now._

“He’s dead, Steve. They took one of their new supersoldiers with a resemblance to him and shaped it to fit. Surgery, training. They indoctrinated it with everything they knew about Barnes the same way they indoctrinated the others with Soviet and HYDRA propaganda.”

“Bullshit,” Steve snarled. “No one is that good an actor.”

Whatever was on his face caused Rumlow to step back and spread his hands at shoulder height, palms out, placatingly.

“He’s _not dead_ ,” Steve repeated.

“Steve…”

_Stop saying my fucking name!_

“The asset isn’t a copy,” he said instead.

Rumlow was shaking his head slowly, hands still raised. “It’s not him. Test it yourself. It was made to fool Carter or Stark. It was never meant to stand up to _you_. You’ll see.”

“I _will_ see,” Steve said darkly. With that, he turned and started down the steps. Having Rumlow at his back was a minor discomfort irrelevant against the roiling storm of emotions.

The basement was white hexagonal tile divided in half by a force field. The far half was a spartan holding cell. A shirtless figure in dark pants lay curled, facing away from the stairs, on the built-in cushioned platform that served as a bed.

Steve hesitated halfway down and Rumlow cautiously squeezed his shoulder. Steve shook him off, glaring up at him. There was a rightness to the motion that settled him in his own bones in a way he hadn’t felt in long time.

“Bang on the barrier when you’re satisfied. I have the remote.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Rumlow, and departed hastily. He didn’t close the panel at the top.

Heart in his throat, Steve took the last few steps to the basement floor. “Bucky?” It came out a whisper but much too loud.

Fabric whispered as the person on the bed curled up tighter. “ _Three, two... Three, two, five… five…_ ”

He’d heard that mantra before. Even now, it sometimes infiltrated his nightmares.

“Buck?“ He stepped forward and the barrier flickered out long enough for him to pass.

A slight shudder and the figure rolled over to look at Steve, just for a wide-eyed moment before looking down. “R-ready to comply.”

 _What? This is supposed to be Bucky?_ No, this was a Bucky who had been made into the Winter Soldier. He’d been thinking of the version who had spoken so easily in Z1. He should have known. He should have been prepared.

He wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!


	80. Chapter 80

Steve took a cautious step forward. “Bucky? Do you know me?”

Bucky stared at him. In the vicinity, anyway, tracking his movements.

“New handler,” he said finally, eyes fixed on Steve’s chin.

Shaking his head in horrified denial, Steve said, “We talked, really talked, only an hour or so ago. You know who I am.” There hadn’t been a wipe, he was sure of that. What the hell was going on? What was the effect of the order for E2?

A muscle in Bucky’s jaw moved slightly but he said nothing.

“Do you know who you are?”

“Asset, Winter Soldier.” Bucky shrank in on himself. “HYDRA’s creation,” he whispered. “Yours to use.”

Desperate for some sign of his best friend again, Steve said, “Rumlow, Commander Rumlow, said _E2_. That mean anything to you?”

That got him a stilted nod but no eye contact let alone words.

“What can you tell me about E2?” he tried.

Bucky stared straight ahead and answered woodenly. “E2 is the scenario in which I tell you I wasn't always a Winter Soldier and I had to be broken very thoroughly before they could mold me into one.”

It was a statement carefully devoid of promises of truth or claims of orders to lie.

 _Everything you think you want,_ Rumlow had said.

Had Steve really wanted _this_? “And who were you?” he asked.

Bucky cocked his head slightly as if to say _you should already know this_. “An American soldier,” he said. “Rescued by HYDRA.”

The sharp pain of digging his nails into his palm grounded Steve enough that he could ask, “Do you remember your name?"

He licked his lips and looks down. “The man's name was James Barnes. Respectfully, Captain, it is not my name."

“His friends called him Bucky,” said Steve. Saying the name aloud was enough to firm his resolve to push for more. “How can you say you're not him? I heard you repeating his service number."

Eyes wide and shoulders gone tense, Bucky’s mouth twisted in a grimace of fear and self-recrimination. “A trained habit from the early days, Captain,” he said. “It's not conscious. I know how to behave.” Hands on this knees, he bowed over his thighs. "Would you like a demonstration, Captain?” he offered meekly.

“Demonstration of what? You’re not doing anything wrong…” Steve _did not like_ where this was going.

“I am required to prove my submission to my handlers,” He glanced up at Steve's face briefly before looking down. "Do we have a mission, Captain?"

Steve shook his head, then realized that it still has its eyes cast down and wasn't looking at him anyway. “No mission,” he said firmly.

Lines creased Bucky’s forehead as he scrunched up his face into a slight frown, lips pursed. “This is a test? Recreation? I don’t understand. How would you like me to prove my submission to you? You can hurt me or fuck me.”

It really was a test, as a matter of fact. Steve had come down here to sort fact from fiction and fantasy. All he had was more uncertainty. If he said it was a test, Bucky would probably try harder to sell the party line. If he said it was recreation, well, he knew what that invariably meant. He looked around the basement, like he really thought he could find a way out _now_. There wasn’t much new to see. There was a lightweight white plastic wastebasket on the floor by the head of the bed-platform and with the bed unoccupied he could see a half-full bottle of water propped against the wall Bucky had been curled towards.

All the details did was dispirit him even more.

“What if I don’t want either option?” he said, hoping for a useful response.

“You said no mission. What are my orders?”

So much for that.

“I… I want you to know me, of course I do, but more importantly, I want you safe and happy.”

Bucky blinked in the direction of Steve’s shoulders, wordless.

Feeling his face heat, Steve said, “I want you to convince me you’re Bucky. But I think it’s a test for _me_ , actually.”

“I’m not Bucky,” said Bucky. “Maybe I could be, but you gotta play by the rules.”

“Which are?” The slightest hint of Bucky’s natural accent and Steve had to fight all his instincts to trust.

“I’m… yours to use. You decide how to use me. Use me. Reward or punish me. Return me to the tech team for maintenance. Bring me out for training, recreation, or missions.” While Steve was still digesting the bland recitation of regular horrors, Bucky added a hint of dark humor. “Rinse and repeat.”

“Fuck!” Steve choked on the curse and put a hand over his face.

A shrug. “That or a beating. Captain.”

Grimacing, Steve asked, “What’s most effective?” He wasn’t stupid. He knew where this was going.

“Pleasure is better than pain.” Bucky paused, then said, “I’m very good with my mouth.” Slowly, deliberately, he licked his lips.

Unprepared for the shift in demeanor, Steve swallowed hard. “I know. You always were.” Did whoever was speaking now take pride in his oral skills like Bucky used to? Was it just better than the other options?

“You’re a supersoldier. You’re meant to be Steve Rogers, Captain?”

He could hear a wealth of suppressed emotion in those words and hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking.

“I _am_ Steve Rogers.” Bucky never used to call him Captain unless he was either joking or furious. “You’re Bucky Barnes.”

“You want to _escape_ with me,” said Bucky. “You said so earlier this morning, Steve.” He licked his lips again.

_What the fuck is going on? When I first started talked to him he acted like he didn’t remember a goddamn thing about earlier._

The only thing Steve was accomplishing here was increasing his level of confusion.

“Yeah, Buck,” he said roughly.

Bucky nodded and shifted forward toward him on hands and knees until he was kneeling immediately in front of him. “I understand now,” he said softly.

And then he went for Steve’s belt.

“H...hey, _stop_ ,” Steve spluttered, leaning away and catching his hands, “Bucky!”

He gave up removing the pants and tried instead to press his face against Steve’s crotch with the sort of intense focus usually applied to mission targets.

 _Please let this not be anything Rumlow specifically ordered._ Steve was going to be sick.

“ _Soldier!_ ”

The asset went still and looked up, clearly puzzled by Steve’s behavior. There was no trace of even as much of Bucky as there had been ten seconds ago and he regretted it bitterly. All the same, this wasn’t what he had come down here for, no matter what the asset thought.

“I thought you were being Bucky. Why are you doing this?”

The asset looked up at him through Bucky’s lashes. “Since the late 1990s, Barnes Protocols are usually invoked for roleplay ending in sexual intercourse. This scenario, offered rescue from HYDRA, is-”

He really was going to be sick. Steve’s stomach provided him just enough warning to drop the asset’s hands and lunge for the wastebasket by the bed.

Scrunched up in confusion, nose wrinkled at the smell, Bucky’s face broadcast dismay and concern. “I don’t understand.” He stayed on his knees where Steve had left him.

“It’s not you,” Steve gasped. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “None of this is your fault, Buck. I swear. Fuck. Those _monsters_.” He gagged again, dry heaving. His eyes were tearing up.

“I don’t understand,” the asset repeated. “I’m meant to be used by my handlers. Performing as James Barnes is good. I was made to imitate him on command. You’ve used me according to the Barnes Protocols in the past. The Commander showed me the incident report and some of the video. It was good.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” Steve said weakly.

“I enjoyed it,” the asset said simply. “I thought… I don’t understand you.”

“I miss Bucky and I got confused. I shoulda just taken care of you right away. I’m sorry. I was weak, Soldier.”

“It was good for me,” insisted the asset, face falling when Steve couldn’t do anything except look miserable. “I _know_ that.”

He said, “If I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t have asked you to do anything for me.”

“If it’s not his face,” mused the asset, “did I… did I do something wrong? Something you didn’t like?”

“God, no. You’re amazing. I just…” This was hell. Steve hadn’t ever been in the habit of talking about his feelings. He felt gross and vulnerable. The discomfort was almost welcome. This conversation was _horrible_. “It doesn’t matter how good it feels physically. It makes me feel sick and unhappy. Not you. The situation.”

The asset’s eyes widened in abrupt misunderstanding. “You don’t like pleasure,” he said, wonderingly.

Okay, Steve could see how he had received that impression. He tried and failed to hide a wince at the thought of trying to explain. Maybe he shouldn’t? He could let the asset believe.

He thought of how the asset always waited for permission to touch. He seemed to understand how consent worked. He just didn’t apply the concept to himself.

“It shouldn’t be this way,” Steve clarified. “I don’t feel good about touching you like that when you don’t have the option of telling me to go to hell.”

“I _could_ tell you to go to hell,” the asset offered. “I know how to simulate resistance. There are multiple appropriate scenarios.”

_Oh, God. That’s worse. So much worse._

His stomach lurched and he swallowed back saliva. “No!”

The asset flinched slightly.

“Sorry,” Steve choked out, trying not to heave again. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to apologize for right then. Maybe causing the flinch. Maybe everything.


	81. Chapter 81

The asset watched quietly from its kneeling position while Steve recovered. His biographers would probably have expected it to be strange for Steve to be sick and Bucky to sit by and do nothing to assist. they would have been wrong. Even when Steve had had nothing, he had Bucky, but he’d had his pride too. Sure, he put up with all the little day-to-day things in the name of prevention and he put up with Bucky’s help when he really was too sick to take care of himself. That didn't mean he had to like needing any of it. He’d pushed away help plenty of times before, even knowing Bucky tended to get this way in the end.

_“You just started your new job, Buck. I can take care of myself. It’s just bronchitis.”_

_“And a sprained wrist and bruised ribs! Probably a head injury since God knows ya oughta be able to put the ribs ‘n the cough together and know when you’re in trouble.”_

_“Damnit, Bucky! I’ll be fine. Nothing’s broken and it’s my left wrist anyway. Last I checked you were gettin’ paid for working, not volunteering as my nurse.”_

_“Yeah, well, your ma didn't get paid for it either, punk. Wanna make a guess why she did it? Why I’m still here puttin’ up with your shitty attitude ‘n lack of common sense?”_

_Steve glared mulishly. He knew how this went and he hated to admit that Bucky had the better point. “Because you-”_

_“Love you, you fuckin’ idiot!” Bucky hissed, low and furious. “Now get back in that bed before you get pnumonia or crack a rib. Jesus, Steve. Wan’ me ta go to work? Try convincing me you can be left alone!”_

Steve blinked and tried to control his breathing while he rode out a wave of disorientated grief and even more sick helpless rage.

The Winter Soldier with Bucky’s face was waiting for him.

He coughed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Am I authorized to start any of the scenarios in the Barnes Protocols?”

The asset stared, expressionless.

Right, Steve should know if he was authorized or not. If he was, he wouldn’t have to ask. He shook his head. “Let’s just get out of here.“ He went to the barrier and banged against it solidly with his fist. The energy stung a little and he wondered how it worked.

Instead of letting down the barrier like Steve had expected, Rumlow appeared at the top of the stairs. “What?“

“I… ended the scenario a little early,“ Steve said.

Rumlow sighed heavily. “I take it you’re not satisfied?”

“No.” Truth be told, he was starting to question if he ever could be.

“Let’s try another scenario,” said Rumlow. “Asset! R6. Z1 discretion, if you need it.” He turned and vanished out of sight.

At least some of that was clear to Steve. What was R6? When he turned to ask the asset, it was cringing away a little with its arms wrapped around its chest. It stared at its feet and swallowed hard.

“Steve?” His name sounded horribly uncertain in the voice which should have been confident. It was like…

“I thought you were dead,” Steve offered carefully.

Bucky's head came up and he stared at Steve in wide-eyed silence, both of them holding their breath.

Then, blue eyes narrowed, his expression hardened, and Bucky snarled, “I thought _you_ were _smarter_.”

Fair enough. It wasn’t anything Steve hadn’t berated himself for. He should’ve known something was different about Bucky since their reunion, more than shellshock. He should have kept searching. “I am so fucking sorry, Bucky, I should have known. I should have _looked_.”

“What?” Bucky squinted at him. “ _No_ , Steve. What the hell, stupid! I made damn sure you didn’t suspect anything. You had a mission to finish. I never expected you to look for me.”

It was everything Steve could ever have hoped to hear.

It was absolute bullshit.

Well, Steve also had a thing or two to say himself. Hurts that had been banging around in his brain since he’d first seen the face of the Winter Soldier. He didn’t want to be angry at Bucky. Didn’t change the fact he was, the sort of pure carrying anger that had more than once led to the boy he’d been picking fights with men three times his size and storming HYDRA strongholds alone on a grim thread of hope that he could _do_ something.

“ _I’m_ stupid?” he exploded. Bucky didn’t flinch. “Are you telling me you knew? You _knew_? I get that you were scared, Bucky, I do, but did you really think I’d turn you in? Let _anyone_ make you a lab rat again?”

Hands spreading, _what can you do_ , Bucky screwed up his face and snapped, “Why the hell not, huh? Isn’t that what you let them do to yourself? And HYDRA woulda found out, we all knew there were spies. You were so damn wrapped up in _doing the right thing_ and _making a real difference_. Even as the Man with a Plan, you never fuckin’ stop to fuckin’ think about long-term fuckin’ consequences!”

Steve unclenched his fists and realized they were both breathing a little hard. God, it felt so good to argue with Bucky again. That it was an argument that hadn’t been relevant since 1945 didn’t matter one whit. But… was that really what Bucky thought of him?

“I wouldn’t,” he said seriously. “I wouldn’t. Not if you didn’t think it was safe.”

A sick half-grin and Bucky retorted, “When have you ever listened to me about somethin’ not being safe. God, you’re dumb. Good thing you’re a supersoldier and pretty. You’d never have got past Private otherwise. Dumbest guy in the world.”

There really wasn’t any good comeback for that. “I wouldn’t have let them make you a lab rat,” Steve repeated. He could hear the desperation in his own voice but he couldn’t stop it. “I had Erskine’s serum and _I_ didn’t stay a lab rat. We woulda made ‘em see you were more useful with me and the Commandos. I swear, Bucky.”

Bucky took a step forward to get right in his face. “I believe you’d try. Always were too dumb to run away from a fight, ‘specially one you couldn’t win. Don’t change the fact you _never fucking listen and think_ , you stupid, stupid punk.”

“Bucky…” Steve had time to protest, and then Bucky was kissing him with desperate hunger, crowding him against the barrier which snapped electric against his back. “ _Umph!”_   Struggle was useless and there were spots in his vision by the time he decided to change tactics. His first forays into Bucky’s mouth with his tongue were a little strange and would have been gross if he’d taken the time to think. He _had_ been sick not that long ago.

His head was spinning. He wasn’t sure if the spots were from lack of oxygen, being pushed against the forcefield, or just from kissing Bucky. He didn’t care.

“Are we real?” he whispered when Bucky finally pulled back so their foreheads pressed together instead of their lips. Reality wouldn’t fuck off and leave him alone with Bucky just because he _wanted._

“Do you want to be?” Bucky asked, just as softly. “I do.”

Steve couldn’t see the precipice, but he could feel it ready to swallow him up. He dodged the question and tried not to think of how much of this might not be programmed. “I want you to be safe and happy.”

The other supersoldier sighed into his neck. “And what do you want for _you_ , Steve?”

“Whatever you need from me, Buck.”

Another sigh became a tired breath of laughter. “Listen. Think. Be smarter. Make me yours.” Fingers, warm and cool, ran down his sides, firm enough not to tickle.

Steve took a few deep breaths and let himself fall. _Sorry, Natasha_ , he thought vaguely. He’d have to trust that she was right about his ability to recover from this.  _Don't think about it. It's Bucky._

“Goes both ways, pal,” he promised, and brought his hands up to hold Bucky’s face in place for another kiss.


	82. Chapter 82

“I’m listening now,” Steve whispered as soon as the kiss ended. “But I don’t have to make you anything. You’ve always been mine and I’ve always been yours.”

Bucky was shaking in his arms, just slightly. “Please, I’m yours. Please. Please make me feel it. Please, Steve, Cap-”

“Stop,” Steve commanded. A sudden absence of noise had caught his attention and he didn’t want to hear Bucky call him Captain again like that. If he was reminded of reality, he’d prove Rumlow right and be unable to go through with this.

Bucky froze mid-word and the pair of them nearly toppled over as the forcefield which had been supporting some of Steve’s weight vanished.

Grabbing at Bucky’s right arm until they were stable again, Steve looked up to see Rumlow at the top of the stairs. “There’s lube by the beds, right?”

Rumlow nodded, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, and oh, how part of Steve enjoyed surprising the HYDRA Commander. “Of course. You need anything else?”

_For none of this to be happening?_

_No, don’t think about it._

“We’re coming up and I plan to do what I oughta done months ago but I’m a little confused about how this is supposed to work.” Ignoring the suggestive leer took less self-control than it should have. He huffed in irritation. “I mean, I thought sex was only for after missions.” Maybe it was the same sort of mental state as he’d had for the first few missions with the asset. He was aware of what he was doing and disturbed by how easy it was but it was all both too real and a little unreal, like he wasn’t perfectly in step with his own body.

“Not exactly,” Rumlow clarified. “The asset’s _orgasms_ are only for missions. As its handler, you can do whatever you want with it, Steve.”

“Meaning…” Steve prompted.

“Tell him, asset,” said Rumlow.

Bucky said, “I’m required to demonstrate my secondary function whenever deemed appropriate by a handler.” He sounded like the asset again.

_Don’t think about it._

Pierce had used that euphemism.

Steve inhaled slowly before releasing a jagged breath. “He’s not allowed to get off?”

“Nope,” said Rumlow, cheerfully popping the p. “ _It’s_ not.”

Steve turned back to Bucky who only nodded, eyes fixed on his lips, expression hungry.

“Please, Steve.”

Extending his hand, he said, “C’mon…” Bucky? Soldier? He was suddenly unsure what to call the man he was about to take to bed.

No, the man he was about to use for his own pleasure and not…

_Don’t think about it. This is the best you can do right now so do it._

He led the way up past Rumlow, opened his mouth to speak, and was suddenly reminded of the pressing need to brush his teeth. “We’re washing up first,” he announced, then paused. “Sorry, Brock, you’re not invited.”

Rumlow laughed in disbelief and raised his hands in surrender as he backed out. “Do what you gotta, Cap. It’s a small bathroom anyway.” He stopped with his hand on the door. “Just tell me, are you convinced yet?”

Steve made himself grin. It wasn’t a good grin. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m convinced.” _It’s Bucky or as close as I’ll ever have again. Bucky._

There was that look of surprise again. “Well, damn,” said Rumlow, and exited.

When Steve turned around, Bucky was already naked and stepping into the bathtub. Steve swallowed hard and pulled the plastic curtain across before grabbing the toothbrush and toothpaste he’d opened last night and brushing furiously at his teeth and tongue.

The water turned on. The water turned off. He handed back a towel without thinking about it, rinsed his mouth, and took his own turn in the shower.

Time moved fast and slow and then they were stumbling toward the bed Steve hadn’t slept in the night before and Steve said, _“Touch me_ ,” and Bucky, or maybe the asset, said, “ _Yes, Steve,_ ” and they hit the side of the bed. There was a metal hand on his ass and a hardening cock against his thigh. Steve decided to take that as an encouraging sign.

_Don’t think about it._

He himself wasn’t anywhere near hard. He’d known drugs were the reason simple skin contact had felt so good before but it was so distracting to have Bucky’s full attention like this that he almost couldn’t care about the state of his own erection.

“What do you need?” Steve begged. “I can’t… I gotta. Wanna make it good for you.”

“I’m your asset. I'm yours. I need you to make me feel it.”

“You’re mine,” he swore breathlessly, peppering Bucky’s stubbled chin with kisses. “I’m with you. My asset and my Bucky.” There hadn’t been any razors but Steve’s own beard had always taken longer to grow, even after the serum. Of course, Bucky’s serum must have enhanced that too.

Bucky groaned and tipped his head back to give Steve better access to the vulnerable stretch of throat. “Please,” he gasped. “Steve? Please?”

Steve pushed him back until they were arched over the bed. Fingers tangled in dark hair, he tugged down and Bucky went, upper body collapsing into the sheets. Steve crawled after him, straddling his hips so they could kiss again. “Yeah, Buck, your Steve. Gonna take care of you. Whatever you need.”

“My handler and my Steve? Please?” the asset, Bucky, begged. “I’ll be so fuckin’ good for you, please. Wanna be yours. Anything… Anything you want.”

“Goes both ways,” Steve repeated.

A new thought struck him and he had to wince. He sat back. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Bucky propped himself up on both elbows and Steve was pleased to see that spark of angry challenge was back in his eyes. “The Commander said you fucked me twice already.” _You can quit with the bullshit,_ said Bucky’s face. _I’m on to you, pal._

“Never like this,” Steve protested. “First time we were drugged and the second was…” The least he owed here was honesty. “The second time was punishment. I had trouble getting you off. All I know is the basic mechanics.”

“The Commander could…” But Bucky looked uneasy even before the words trailed off.

Steve made a face. “No. It’s your body. I want you to teach me how to make this good for you. You taught me how to throw a punch. This can’t be much harder.”

“Yeah, eventually,” agreed Bucky. “Not my fault you ain’t got no weight to put behind it. All grit, no stamina. Guess that’s changed, though, huh, punk?” It was _all Bucky_ , that familiar twist of amusement and fond exasperation to his lips. Steve kinda wanted to kiss that expression off him, realized he actually could, and did, thoroughly. The old Bucky would have made the _harder_ joke Steve had half-intentionally set up but this was even better.

_No stamina. Jesus Christ, Bucky Barnes, you fucking jerk. Where the hell have you been?_

“Jerk. I’ll show _you_ stamina,” Steve muttered against his chest as he dragged the other supersoldier all the way onto the bed. “All you gotta do is tell me what you need. This time, I’m listenin’.”


	83. Chapter 83

They grappled briefly, but there was no real attempt to upset their positions, only to get a better grip on each other. Wriggling up to clear Steve’s hips, Bucky freed his right leg to wrap around Steve’s waist while Steve’s thigh was suddenly up closer and more personal with that thickening cock. His own was... not completely uninterested but there were more important things happening to his body. Bucky’s right hand was sliding over his chest and he knew he was never going to be able to ignore comments about his supposed tits again. A large part of the sensitivity, it seemed, had had nothing to do with the purple fog. There were probably bruises on his ass now from the metal hand and Steve couldn’t care beyond the contradictory urges to let Bucky hurt him like he deserved and to push back into the reassuring solidity of that grip.

Steve did his best to disregard the increasingly frequent seeking looks, the ones asking, _Am I doing this right?_

“What next?” Steve breathed roughly when Bucky let himself be pinned by Steve’s hands on his right shoulder and the bed to the other side of his neck. “Tell me and I’ll do it.”

Bucky lay silently on the bed, grip growing lax as he frowned thoughtfully into the middle distance. “I don’t know what to say, Steve,” he said finally. “I don’t want to cross any lines.”

Was that the Winter Soldier asking or would Bucky be, was Bucky, as unsure as Steve? _Don’t think about it. It’s Bucky. Only Bucky._

“We weren’t like this,” Bucky said. 

He couldn’t make a sound. He swallowed, paralyzed. 

“Steve?”

Steve shook his head.

They hadn’t been a lot of things they were now. They weren’t a lot of things they had been. 

Head tilted, Bucky asked, “You… You did it before, right? Just not with a guy?”

Oh, _fuck_ , that question hurt. Eyes closed, he sucked in a deep breath, held it while the burn of unshed tears subsided, and released it slowly. “Think I made you proud with the chorus girls, but before SHIELD the closest I ever got to what we’re doin’ was a couple handjobs from Howard Stark in the name of science.”

Heat bloomed in his face but that really _was_ all it had been, even when Howard had stared at Steve’s new body like he maybe planned to eat him alive instead.

It had taken Steve an embarrassingly long awkward moment to understand that Howard was serious, even if he was only interested in the results of the supersoldier experiment. It hadn’t hurt that they’d both known the SSR was prepared to let Howard get away with murder as long as he kept working for them and Steve had suddenly become irreplaceable.

He’d never been able to push his body toward pleasure like that before and it had been a relief to know someone shared his grief, not that they’d talked much. That would have destroyed the illusion that they were just helping each other out a little.

No one needed to know exactly _how_ the data had been gathered. 

Honestly, Steve had needed the distraction as much as Howard had, after everything that had happened: a whole new body, Erskine’s murder, HYDRA spies and submarines, the crowd of scientists and doctors dogging Steve’s every step. He’d never asked what Howard did with the samples. Knowing what he did now, he was afraid to find out. 

_I’m the real Steve Rogers. I know I am._

That was as much as Steve had ever done. If Bucky had shown any willingness to engage in a physical relationship beyond literally sleeping together, Steve liked to believe he would have gone for it without hesitation, but nothing had ever happened between them. Nothing but scarce words and carefully casual touches that stayed just the right side of platonic even when they exceeded what was generally considered socially acceptable.

Steve hadn’t lacked offers from women _or men_ , after Project Rebirth. He’d given up resisting the chorus girls not long after the first long train ride on tour, but after their reunion in Europe, he’d kept his eyes on Peggy and his hands on Bucky. He’d have taken anything they offered. There was no one else he wanted.

He was every bit as lonely in the future as he’d led STRIKE to believe, but how could he possibly move on when Peggy and Bucky were still here? It made no difference to his heart that neither of them fully remembered what they had and could have been to each other. 

Rumlow’s offers had been public, or at least in front of the team. Steve had never been quite sure of the agenda behind them. The point was moot, anyway. A fella had to have standards. The man was HYDRA.

_Aren’t we all?_

_Don’t think about it. Think about Bucky. Bucky is waiting._

He opened his eyes and Bucky was there, watching him intently, uncertainly. 

“Still lookin’ for the right partner?” Bucky ventured and Steve reeled back, lifting his hands, or trying to, before they were caught in the unrelenting vice of the other supersoldier’s grasp.

He wasn’t trying to get away but Bucky reacted like he’d run for the lasers. He threw his weight to the side and used the leg he had around him to flip them over. Positions reversed, Bucky pinned him more effectively than Steve had with mismatched hands and something between Bucky’s thunderous scowl and the Winter Soldier’s fierce focus. 

“You promised to stay,” he hissed, wild-eyed. His right hand was pressing against Steve’s throat, but only lightly.

“Not going anywhere.” Steve tried to stop bracing for violence. This was _Bucky_ and if anyone was getting hurt here… _Don’t think about it._ “ _You’re_ my partner.”

Clearly relieved, Bucky sagged over him. The tips of his hair ticked Steve’s chest as his head dipped. Covering his face with the hands no longer needed to restrain Steve, he said, “Why you gotta scare me like that, Stevie?” His elbows were digging into Steve’s pecs.

_What the hell?_ There was no chance to find his footing with how quickly Bucky’s behavior changed. 

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve whispered. 

Awkward silence fell between them until Bucky uncovered his face to give Steve the asset’s small smile. “You’re staying. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed cautiously. “We…”

Silver arm flashing, Bucky snatched an object out of the air. Steve hadn’t even noticed the unexpected projectile.

It was a bottle of lube. 

Steve had been trying to focus on Bucky. He deliberately hadn’t paid attention to the third person in the cabin and now Rumlow was looking at them over the back of the couch. 

“You two gonna get the show on the road anytime soon?”

Steve ground his teeth. _You gonna go fuck yourself, Brock?_ No, he couldn’t say that. Besides, there was a good chance the answer was yes.

“Yes, Commander,” said Bucky, tone subdued. He was the asset again. 

_Fuckin’ hell, shit, and damn._

“You’re still not invited, Brock,” Steve grit out.

A shrug and Rumlow faced away from them again. Not that that meant much. For all Steve knew, he was jerking it to a camera feed on the same TV Steve had watched those awful videos on. “Have it your way, but I’m meant to be supervising your alone time.”

“Sure,” Steve said, not quite snapping, “but you can do it from over there.”

“I plan to,” Rumlow agreed easily. Too easily? “Shout if anyone freaks out.”

“Yes, Commander,” said Bucky, the asset, before Steve could pick an appropriate response.

Another awkward silence grew. 

The asset examined the bottle of lube. Steve stared at the ceiling. It was a nice ceiling, if you liked dark stained wood which no doubt concealed those hexagonal panels used to contain anyone enhanced like they were.

The asset was still looking at the bottle.

“Uh,” Steve said and the asset’s focus snapped to him at once. He swallowed. “Let’s try this again. Bucky? I… I want you.” It was too much. He had to close his eyes to get away from that wary eagerness. “Can you…?” 

Lips pressed against his and he let himself cup the back of Bucky’s head and neck before the kiss ended and he opened his eyes. “Bucky. We’re real. I don’t care if you’re the Winter Soldier. I’m still with you to-” The rest of his words were cut off by bruising kiss. 

“So fuckin’ _stupid_.” It was a whisper of that mix of fondness and frustration that was so familiar. “‘Course I’ll show you. It’ll be good.” Another kiss, this time finished with a nip to Steve’s lower lip.

“Please,” he breathed. “Please be here with me, Bucky.” He wasn’t sure if he was speaking to someone present or not and his eyes prickled with threatening heat.

“Shhh.” Bucky hushed him. “I gotcha, Stevie. We’re together here. We’re gonna be fine.” 

This was Bucky. Bucky had him. Everything else was irrelevant, would be irrelevant if he could just stop _thinking_. 

“Please, I..” He didn’t even know what to say. It was all he could do right now to focus on Bucky’s body over his and not fuck up again. “Bucky, I don’t, I, _fuck_!” He didn’t even know what to do with his hands. They slid from neck to shoulders, like he wasn’t sure if he was about to pull closer or push away. He thought he knew what he _should_ do but that was wrong, wasn’t it? Everything was wrong and he knew he wasn’t supposed to feel like this, miserable and ashamed by both his want and his inability to follow through on the promises he’d made. He couldn’t do this. He had to. He had to _stop fucking thinking_. He jerked his hands off Bucky’s shoulders, balled them into fists and pressed them against his cheekbones to make them ache.

“C’mon, Steeeevie,” Bucky crooned, nuzzing the side of his face and breathing hot against his ear. “Relax, pal.” He took Steve’s hands and pulled them to his sides. “Lemme see those gorgeous blues. How ‘m I gonna show ya anything if you cover up those pretty eyes, huh?”

Steve had never heard him like that before, not directed at him, not for real. “Ah…” he said, and blushed uselessly. Now it was clear to him that he hadn’t really understood what he was asking for. He’d seen Bucky charming, eager, lustful. He’d never seen Bucky _seductive._ Not like this. Whatever version of Bucky was pinning him to the bed approached this scenario (he tried not to think it but the word was there) completely differently than the post-mission Winter Soldier. 

Is this what it would have been like if they’d taken the risk? If it could have been real?

_Don’t think about it!_

“Whaddya need, Steve? You look like you’re losin’ your head again. How’bout I give you some, hmm? Ease the way with something familiar?” 

“Oh, god.” With another shudder, Steve pulled himself back together enough to grimace and tell him, “That’s a terrible line, pal.”

“Yeah?” Bucky trailed kisses from Steve’s neck to navel before looking up with a devilish grin. He licked his lips with a smooth swipe of dark pink tongue.

Steve’s breath caught.

“Seems to be workin’ just fine,” Bucky continued, releasing Steve’s shoulder so he could use his left hand to palm Steve’s burgeoning erection. The texture and hardness of the metal came as a shock. His cock jumped as smoothly segmented fingers passed over him to find and cup his balls.

_That_ was certainly new in Steve’s experience.

“Pretty sure anything you do will _work just fine_ ,” Steve countered through gritted teeth. He couldn’t keep his breathing even. Was he supposed to? There had always been a barrier of some sort between them. Drugs, fear and pain, the formalities of HYDRA’s damn handler/asset rituals. He had no idea how this was supposed to go between normal fellas. 

_We’re not normal. No part of this is normal._

_Don’t think about it._

It was a good thing Bucky had taken over. Steve could hate himself for asking (ordering) him to do it (facilitate his own abuse) later (for the rest of his life).

“Y’wanna know what it feels like, punk?” The question was almost subvocalized. Neither of them made a move to check Rumlow’s position. 

_Don’t think about it. Think of Bucky. Imagine this is the first time that counts and we both want it._

_Don’t think about it._


	84. Chapter 84

Not thinking was easier said than done. The combination of Rumlow’s presence and Bucky’s continually shifting behavior made it hard to maintain any sort of fantasy. Worse, the fantasy wasn’t fair to Bucky. Or whoever it was whose fingers were resting against the delicate skin between Steve’s testicles and anus.

Oh, fuck. Rumlow. While Steve would have welcomed anything Bucky tried with him, the Winter Soldier wasn’t allowed to top.

Under the guise of another kiss, Steve surged up and flipped them, grabbing the edge of the felt blanket that covered the bed and throwing it over them. _Ouch._ The hand between his legs was the metal one. It was, unsurprisingly, hard, and Steve hadn’t planned beyond the necessity of hiding them both from Rumlow.

At Steve’s pained hiss, Bucky flattened himself to the bed and stared up with wide eyes. Steve released his grip on the bedding and cupped Bucky’s head in both hands. No point trying to smile. Even before any training, Bucky would have been able to tell his heart wasn’t in it. Instead, he shushed him and pressed their cheeks together. “You won’t hurt me. Ain’t made of glass, Buck.”

Bucky’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Steve,” he whispered.

“It’s okay, Bucky,” Steve murmured. “You can...touch me.” Incredibly, he found himself blushing. He fished the lube from where it had ended up half-hidden under Bucky’s long hair and opened it with a loud click. It was new, or maybe just scrupulously clean. _Don’t think about it._

He extricated his arms enough to slide the bottle between them and squeeze it into that same metal palm.

If possible, Bucky’s eyes grew even larger.

“You can show me,” Steve said shakily. “I know you know what you’re doing and I trust you.”

Ever so slowly, he felt those smooth hard fingers shift against each other, coating themselves with the lubricant. Then, even more slowly, those fingers moved to stroke over the intimate places Steve hadn’t even quite bruised, and then that shockingly warm and sensitive area around his hole. A rough kiss smothered whatever sound he made as a smooth fingertip pressed against his pucker.

Oh. _Oh_. This was… Could they do this? How far did Bucky have in mind? What would happen if they were caught?

_Don’t think about it. It’s Bucky._

In reaction to some tension or hesitation, Bucky stilled his fingers. A fraction of a second was all Steve had to decide. It would be easy to put a stop to this. He couldn’t. Some instinct told him doing so would hurt Bucky. Maybe it was selfishness and wishful thinking. It didn’t matter. Steve made himself relax and press back into the tentative touch. “‘Sokay, pal,” he murmured and reluctantly thought of the HYDRA agent listening. “Jus’ lemme…” Another kiss, lingering and sweet. He liked this kissing, even when it was tearing his heart up. Did Bucky? He had before.

The Winter Soldier didn’t kiss the rest of STRIKE.

_It’s Bucky. Some part of Bucky knows me and wants me._

That didn’t make it right but he had to try to believe. Everything was so wrong and he hadn’t lost sight of that, even when losing this battle was necessary to win the war.

 _What SHIELD does isn't about_ achieving _victory. It's about_ preventing _it. There will never be an end or peace._

_Don’t think about Rumlow’s words. You know why you’re here._

They had to bear it a little longer, so they had to play their parts.

Which parts? _Don’t think about it._

The finger which had been slowly circling over his hole began to press against his rim.

It wasn’t like he’d never tried it on his own, even if the memory was enough to make him flush hot and embarrassed all through. That hadn’t been anything like this. Maybe it was like tickling yourself; it worked best if you didn’t have control.

He exhaled slowly into Bucky’s hair as the single digit pressed in. If it had been anyone but Bucky, he would have worried about the segments pinching, but it was and he didn’t.

Physically, the intrusion didn’t feel great, if he was honest. The position they were in with Bucky under him on his back was awkward. Warmed to body temperature by all the slow touching, the finger inside him was movement, pressure, but, more critically, it was a kind of intimacy he’d never had with anyone and had always wanted with Bucky.

_This part of what I wanted with Bucky, I can have with the Winter Soldier. I could believe that, maybe, if I tried, but that reason won’t fly with Rumlow. Or it might, but it won’t win me any respect or approval._

_Do I care?_

_Don’t worry about it. Deal with Rumlow later._

_I can’t afford not to worry now. They’re watching._

“Thinkin’ too hard, Stevie,” Bucky breathed against his ear. “Relax. I’m here with you.”

“Buck.” He could hear the hoarseness in his voice. His eyes felt hot again.

“Shhh. I got ya, punk.”

Now, he really was feeling hot. His whole face and chest burned. That word in Bucky’s voice with that finger inside him. _Punk_.

There were a lot of things they never would have called each other, but _punk_ had always been a tease between them. Affectionate, exasperated, joking.

If Bucky had wanted, though…

He’d never let himself think about it.

Inside him, Bucky’s finger crooked, seeking. It was still strange and uncomfortable but there was something else there too. Squirming, Steve cupped Bucky’s face and pressed another kiss against eager lips as Bucky found the place that sent pleasurable jolts through his core. His hips jerked and suddenly he was hard and squirming against Bucky’s own hard cock and slick belly.

Bucky breathed, “Like _that_?” and Steve nodded breathlessly but he knew wasn’t safe to let him do more than that. It was agony, but Steve reached between them and reclaimed Bucky’s left hand. Another twinge of aching discomfort and a strange momentary sense of hollowness and he had slicked metal in his hand, fingers intertwined. Slowly, eyes on Bucky’s face, he brought both hands up between them and kissed the inside of Bucky’s wrist. “Lemme return the favor, Buck.”

The lube was where he’d dropped it between them. The click of the cap was quieter this time and he slicked his own fingers and palm with quick sloppiness.

Blushing, he wriggled until the blanket wasn't quite as tight around them. It was hot enough in here without trying to share a sleeping bag’s worth of space. Naked and active and aroused.

Rumlow was being awfully quiet. Why was he being so quiet?

 _Don’t fucking think about him. You’re here with Bucky_.

If he could just make himself believe long enough to…

No, he was committing to the Winter Soldier Program and being a handler. He couldn’t look at this as temporary or Rumlow would be right.

He had to fight down a wave of self-disgust as his hips rolled on automatic. He swallowed thickly. He had to do this. What had he told himself before everything went even more to hell than before?

 _Live the role. Do what you have to_.

Bucky shifted, bringing both knees up to give Steve better access. “Wan’ me to turn over?”

The hot flush spread down Steve’s skin. “No,” he said hurriedly, and then, “Not yet?”’

“Mmm,” Bucky agreed, and initiated the next kiss as Steve’s fingertips found what he’d been looking for. “Steve, c’mon, I’m ready. I’ve _been_ ready. I can take whatever you give me.”

And so he was. He must have stretched himself in the shower because there was almost no resistance to Steve’s first finger. Bucky pushed into it impatiently.

“You don’t have to. I’m with you to _mmphh!_ ”

Frustration and warning flashed in pale blue when Bucky broke what was less a kiss and more a tactic to prevent Steve from speaking. “ _Please_ ,” Bucky whispered, clutching at him. “You said you’d make me yours.”

Unable to meet those eyes, Steve ducked his head to Bucky’s chest and nodded against it. “Yeah, pal. You’re mine.” A second finger and a third sank in without issue. He was hot and slick, snug around Steve’s knuckles, like his body was trying to pull him in. 

Heart flailing wildly in his chest, a counterpoint to the throb of his erection, Steve stroked both of their cocks together as he pressed in with a fourth finger. He wiggled them a little. Bucky gasped his name, muscles clenching. 

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve repeated the action, looking for that place again. It took a few tries but Bucky’s entire body seized.

He gasped, “ _There_ , Steve! Stevie, please!”

Steve forced his misgivings aside. Just because Steve would rather take a punch than anything else didn’t mean... Bucky seemed to like what they were doing. He was wrapping around Steve like... like an amorous... _not an octopus not an octopus_  ...person who wanted to be in bed with him. Giving Bucky this pleasure was a better feeling than anything else he could imagine.


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over five hundred kudos! Thank you so much.

It was different, doing it this way. If he hadn’t been dry-mouthed with anxiety over doing this right, he might have laughed. Instead, he felt self-conscious and clumsy and struggled to maintain his erection.

A frown creased Bucky's forehead. “You’re getting all tense again.” He slid down the bed as fluid as water through Steve’s fingers and kissed Steve’s cock. It wasn’t a light kiss and it was highly effective. “Please,” he said. “Please, Steve. I can help.”

Shuddering full body, Steve was about to protest until reality caught up with him and he remembered that he was supposed to want, maybe even did want, what was happening.

“Yeah, okay, Buck. Please,” he said, running his fingers through Bucky’s long hair. Bucky’s mouth was on him at once, all his considerable focus on making Steve forget himself with pleasure. Overcome with the sensation and awareness of _Bucky Bucky it’s Bucky,_ Steve lost control of his hips and thrust into that hot wet mouth a little, recovering a shred of self-control only when Bucky made a choking sound. “Fuck,” he gasped. He’d say he was about to embarrass himself but the situation was so far beyond embarrassment it wasn’t even funny. “Enough. You’re too good at that.”

He used his grip on Bucky’s hair to make him pull off. His chest clenched at the sight of Bucky’s wet bruised lips and flushed face. The smile he wore was something brighter and more pleased than what he was used to from the asset. Bucky licked his lips. Without thinking, Steve echoed the gesture. Bucky’s smile grew.

“Damn, you’re amazing.” He pulled Bucky up and kissed him deeply. The taste of himself on Bucky’s lips shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. “What now? I’m all yours.”

Half-lidded blue eyes and darting pink tongue mesmerized him as Bucky looked up at him, barely breathing harder than normal but with much more color in his face than Steve was used to. “Now, Steve, you fuck me,” he said seriously. “No drugs. Hard, deep. Fast or slow. Don’t hafta be rough but I wanna still feel you the next time we do this. Fill me up, mark me up. Push my physical limits. Praise is good, but I don’t need it. All I need is you, Stevie, as much of you as you can give me. Take your pleasure. With me. I’m yours. Please let me please you.”

“Okay, Buck.” He kissed him again and took a deep steadying breath. “You can turn over now. We’ll figure this out.”

There might have been more wriggling and physical contact than strictly necessary as Bucky rolled over but Steve was in no position to complain.

 _Why can’t the asset talk like that?_ Immediately, he regretted the thought as he realized with a pang that this _was_ the asset. They weren’t separate. This was the asset with permission to be Bucky. Bucky would never have asked to please him. They weren’t separate. Steve was supposed to be accepting that.

“I missed you,” he whispered as he bottomed out, but there wasn’t enough air in his lungs and maybe it sounded more like _miss_. It was true either way. “Didn’t think we’d ever have this. Wanna be good to you.”

“So good,” groaned the asset. “Please. With you, Steve.”

Steve did his best to make love to the asset, to Bucky, and put everything else out of his mind. Bucky responded enthusiastically, or seemed to, and he tried to convince himself that meant something, really meant something. It wasn’t until the begging started that reality caught up with him again. There was something Steve was supposed to remember. Slowing his hips, he shushed Bucky with kisses and Bucky went quiet.

Completely silent, not even muffling a stray groan in the pillow.

“Shhh, Buck,” Steve hissed against the back of his neck, even though it wasn’t necessary. The quiet was so absolute Steve felt a need to fill some of it himself. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The body beneath him shuddered and pushed back against his thrusts. A ragged gasp, and Bucky went rigid.

At that moment, Steve remembered.

_The asset’s orgasms are for missions._

Horror washed over him, fresh and overwhelming. Divorced from his paralyzed mind, Steve’s body carried on without him for several seconds, continuing to fuck into the slowly relaxing body of the Winter Soldier.

 _Maybe Rumlow didn’t see. Maybe we’re in the clear._ Maybe _Steve_ wouldn’t be caught, really, because Steve was the handler and this was his fault. He’d told Bucky it was okay and it wasn’t Bucky’s fault that had sounded like permission. It _had_ been permission. Steve hadn’t wanted to deny him in the first place. He hadn’t been thinking. He had to start thinking now.

The serum had done something kinda frightening to his refractory rate. That had been established before he left for the USO tour. The only reason he didn’t usually get off more than once with the asset was that he didn’t want to be doing any of it. He was supposed to be fully willing now. He’d have to continue until it was reasonable for his body to be satisfied.

Three? That should be enough, shouldn’t it? The only time he’d come more was under the effects of the purple gas. No one could expect more than that.

He knew how sensitive Bucky was to direct stimulation. Willpower and lack of stimulation were the main reasons the asset didn’t usually get off more than once after missions. Stamina was a matter of training. Bucky had that training. Steve didn't.

“S’okay, Bucky,” he repeated. “I’m here. I’m with you. We’re gonna be okay, I swear it.”

 _I love you_ , he wanted to say. He couldn’t. Not here and now with Rumlow and HYDRA listening.

_Don’t think about it. Focus on Bucky._

He didn’t have the fucking right to say he loved Bucky, not with the way he was abusing Bucky and had been all this time. Not with the way he’d been abandoning Bucky to HYDRA since 1944. Goddamn him for having the audacity to think his love was true, even if now it was just another reason in a long long list that Steve knew he was going to hell. He knew he couldn’t say it. Not like he wanted to and not as a friend. Even so, he couldn’t stop himself thinking it as his thrusts became erratic and he fucked Bucky through the first orgasm.

Almost as soon as he softened, he was hard again. Maybe the worst part of all this was how good it felt. He hoped pleasure did make things more bearable for Bucky, he really did. He tried to be sweet to him as much as he could be. Bucky deserved gentleness and the asset had always been desperate for touch, so Steve tried to touch as much of him as possible, kissing and caressing. It wasn't much distraction from his cock in Bucky’s ass, for him, at least, but anything he could do to make this better for Bucky, he would. For his part, Bucky sighed and met his thrusts, encouraging the slap of Steve’s balls against his buttocks, and laid his right hand on Steve’s where he was braced against the bed.

“Who do you belong to?” Steve hissed through gritted teeth as he neared his second climax.

“You, Steve,” Bucky gasped. “You. Always yours… Please.” He was clenching tight around Steve’s cock and his breathing was strained.

That was Steve’s dreaded cue. “Shhh.” He shifted his balance more to his knees so he could find and squeeze Bucky’s erection to hold him back. “I’m sorry. I’m here and I’m so sorry, Buck.”

Bucky whimpered. Just like the asset had so many times before. It wasn’t a sound Steve could imagine Bucky making before.

Apparently, he _had_ become conditioned to that sound because it sent a sudden unwelcome wave of pleasure through him now. He grunted, a desperate percussive sound, and came, conscious of his grip on Bucky’s vulnerable genitals. What was he thinking? He’d crushed Bucky’s metal hand. He didn’t want to imagine the damage he could do if… if…

But, no. He might have squeezed a little tight, but he’d mostly clenched the hand he had on the bed instead and the only damage had been done to the bottom sheet and mattress. They’d have to requisition new ones once they were done but he hadn’t injured Bucky. That was the important thing.

“C’mon,” he said hoarsely, “I wanna see your face.” And double check that he really hadn’t done any serious harm.

Carefully, he pulled out his softening cock. The air, even warm air trapped by the blanket and made humid by their exertions, came as a shocking contrast to the wet heat of Bucky’s body. Not being inside him felt almost unnatural.

Panting just as hard as Steve was, Bucky squirmed under him before he rolled over.

“Hey,” he said breathlessly.

“Hey.” Bucky’s skin was flushed, chest heaving. His eyes were shining. His mouth shaped a smile. It was Bucky’s _whaddya think of that?_ smile. Carefully, telegraphing the motion, he reached up to grasp Steve’s shoulders and pull him down into a deep kiss with both tongue and teeth.

It could be faked. Anything could be faked. _Don’t think about it._ The gesture soothed Steve’s raw heart far more than he deserved.

“Any suggestions?” Steve asked. “I don’t care what we do as long as I can see your face.”

“You could fold my knees to my chest,” Bucky offered up. “Deeper for you.. and uh.” He stopped, swallowing nervously and lowering his eyes as his cheeks darkened even more.

“Yeah?” Steve said, trying to sound encouraging. His cock twitched, a sharp twinge of equal interest and self-loathing.

With a shy glance back up at him, (Bucky had never been shy. _Don’t think about it._ ) Bucky licked his lips and finished, “Deeper for you... and a better angle for me.” He bit his lip and gave Steve an uncertain smile which he returned to the best of his ability.

He kissed Bucky again on the lips and then the forehead, pulled back, and said, “Good. Good idea.” He gave himself a testing tug. He was hard enough again and filthy wet with lube and his own ejaculate. When he lined himself up, he could feel more trickling out of Bucky’s hole. His cock twitched in his grip, dripping precome to add to the mess. With any luck, it would be enough to cover up the evidence of Steve’s earlier mistake.

Bucky drew his knees up. Steve leaned forward and pushed into him with his whole body. As Steve braced himself, Bucky covered Steve’s hands with his, holding him where he was. “I’m yours, Steve,” he said, no trace of a smile. “Please, take me. I’m yours.”

Steve shifted his weight to his left hand so he could lift his right and Bucky’s left. He brought them to his lips and kissed the back of Bucky’s prosthetic hand.

At Steve’s gesture, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. His muscles trembled and flexed and it was all Steve could do to keep his hips from thrusting into the messy clench of his body before he was ready. He had to replace their hands on the bed just to steady himself.

“I’m yours too. You’ve got me, pal. To the end of the line,” he murmured, quietly enough he hoped no one but Bucky would pick it up. Louder, he said, “Yeah. I’m gonna prove that to everyone.”


	86. Chapter 86

“It’s good we’ve got you now,” Rumlow said the next day. "Supersoldiers are like horses. Sometimes they need a little time with their own kind. Helps them settle into being what they are to have another example around instead of being surrounded by people all the time or left alone to get ideas.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, not quite sure how he should take that. “You think I count?” Bucky (no, it was the _asset_ and he had to remember to think of him, _it_ , differently again) pressed into his side but gave no other reaction. The more Steve touched him, _it_ , the more it appeared to settle into a dreamy sort of quiet compliance and the more it looked to Steve above Rumlow.

Which had been the point of everything Steve had done at the Retreat, even if he had mixed feelings about the result.

“Best of both kinds, Cap,” Rumlow assured him. “You two can learn a lot from each other. _You’re_ already more stable. Don’t try to pretend otherwise.”

That much, he was afraid was true. He just hadn’t expected to feel so oddly calm about it after what he’d done to Bucky yesterday.

It was terrifying, how easy it was to act as HYDRA in all but name. Steve didn't know what it would take to make it official. Maybe they judged Captain America would always be too great a risk to officially bring on board.

He hoped that wasn't the case. If he didn’t make progress here, he’d have to throw in the towel and that would mean he’d done it all for nothing.

All the same, Rumlow wasn’t helping. As much as he said he didn’t mind teaching Steve to handle the Winter Soldier, Steve had to wonder if there wasn’t some resentment there.

Because Rumlow would not shut up. About every other thing Steve said during the training exercises was a response to a demand for a status update or progress report from the STRIKE Commander. Steve gritted his teeth and gave him the information because Rumlow was officially responsible for them but Steve was boiling mad by the time they finished for the day.

“Good work, Rogers,” Rumlow told him as Steve stalked past him into the cabin, Bucky silent at his heels.

No, the asset at his heels. _It_ was _the asset_ until Steve could make it safe for him, _it!_ , to be Bucky again.

“We'll make a real handler out of you yet. You’re getting better at making it respond and comply under adverse conditions,” Rumlow continued, as if _adverse conditions_ implemented for practicing with the Winter Soldier weren’t things that might result in lasting injury to someone who wasn’t enhanced. “It took me weeks to get as far as you are now, once the honeymoon period was over. Usually, given an excuse, it’ll try to pretend it doesn’t hear orders. It’s not testing you yet and it’s been months since you started with it. Maybe Pierce is right. It’s primed to accept your authority.”

Scowling, Steve had to remind himself that he was trying to comply and that meant he couldn’t punch Rumlow in the face until he _shut up_ or even pick a real fight with him.

Food would help. He always felt more stable once he’d eaten and it had been hours since night had fallen and he’d handfed the asset rations while it made its way through an obstacle course at his side, blind, deaf, and hobbled by two sets of magnetic cuffs. He’d had no appetite for more than a few bites of his share. The asset had licked the extra food from his palm and fingers, nuzzling Steve’s legs like there had never been anything but trust between them.

Like he and Rumlow hadn’t made each course worse, with that evil plug and devices that disabled the arm or induced pain or paralysis. Powders and liquids that itched or stung. Concussion grenades. Barbed wire, salt, and caltrops. Fire, broken glass, and a pit full of half-melted ice. 

Adverse _fucking_ conditions. Steve was so done with this day. All he wanted was to be able to take care of Bucky and eat something before Rumlow could get on him about _that_ too.

He waved a hand at the bathroom. “Clean up, Soldier,” he said. “No more than ten minutes or you had better need assistance.” He hated the unnecessary threat but it was expected of him if he was going to pull this off.

Bucky, the asset, left a trail of bloody partial-footprints.

Steve made himself keep walking in the direction of the refrigerator before he acknowledged Rumlow’s existence again.

“You’re wrong,” he snapped, stopping in the kitchen area and spinning around to face the Commander. “I can command the asset just fine, sure, but that’s _not it_. If it weren’t for your bullshit rules about how we’re s’posed to interact now, I wouldn’t have to _make_ it do anything. Bucky and I weren’t ever all that damn fussed about who was in control. We were friends. We _cooperated_. Helped each other out. Trusted each other to do our part and pick each other up if we needed it.”

Rumlow shook his head. They’d had this much of the argument earlier, two or three times. Only words, though, because Steve was fucking _trying_. “That’s nice, Steve, but your epic bromance with Barnes ain’t got a thing to do with handling the asset.”

Steve took a deep breath, holding it in his lungs and feeling less calm and more like a volcano about to blow. Clearly, Rumlow still wasn’t getting the main point and Steve wasn’t about to start trying to lie again, not about this. “It has _everything_ to do with handling the asset! The asset _is Bucky._ ”

“You said you were convinced.”

“Yeah," Steve agreed. "I’m convinced the asset was my Bucky.”

This time, Rumlow managed to pull off more disappointment than frustration.

Steve wanted to hit him. To be fair, he usually wanted to hit him, but now his fists _ached_ for the impact.

”So much for getting over that. Guess I was wrong. I thought you were different, Steve,” said Rumlow, “but it turns out you’re just like the rest of 'em. Put two supersoldiers together for _too_ long and you lose discipline.”

It was an effort not to make Rumlow's point for him by rolling his eyes. He snorted instead. "What the hell are you on about now, Rumlow?"

“Oh, don’t play dumb. I saw what you did, Cap,” Rumlow said seriously.

 _Damn._ There was no point denying it but damned if he’d confess anyway. Steve opened the refrigerator and found nothing that stirred his appetite. “And what’s that, Brock?” He slammed the refrigerator door hard enough the whole thing rocked back. He was forced to catch and steady it before it fell forward again.

“You let it orgasm.”

Fuck, Steve was tired of this. Totally done with this. “You know, I don’t see a problem. Far as I’m concerned, the asset completed a mission and deserved a reward.”

“What goddamn mission?” Rumlow demanded.

Steve had to snort at that, even if wasn’t very funny. “C’mon, Brock. You know what mission.”

“Yeah? How about you enlighten me?”

“I’m not stupid. I know something’s rotten in SHIELD.”

Rumlow crossed his arms. “Do you,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, like I said, I’m not stupid.” He ducked his head and glanced around the room like there might be something there to make this easier. There wasn’t. He sighed. “But, whatever STRIKE and Secretary Pierce are up to, I mean it about not leaving Bucky, the asset, so…” He rubbed the back of his head, encountered a few leftover twists of tangled barbed wire, and dropped his hand before he could cut himself again. It had been worth it to take that fall instead of Bucky with his long hair but the healing scratches still stung. “Whatever it is, you’ve still got me on side.”

There was no way in hell that Rumlow was going to buy that. No way in hell.

Something between a smirk and an incredulous smile stretched Rumow’s face. “On side? Really? Not that I don’t appreciate this sudden declaration of loyalty, but just what do you think is going on?”

His heart was humming in his throat. “Maybe there’s a reason the asset keeps getting confused about who we’re working for.”

“Oh, yeah? The chair and general fucked-up-ness of the program ain’t enough for you?”

“Maybe,” he said slowly, meeting Rumlow’s eyes steadily. “Maybe it isn’t confused at all.”

No reaction. _So much for getting HYDRA out in the open_ that _easy._

“I’m not stupid,” Steve pressed. “I’ve had enough of the snow job. What could possibly justify everything we do?” He flung his arms out for emphasis.

There was only calm on Rumlow’s face.

Steve folded his arms over his chest. “You promised me answers.”

“So I did.” Rumlow looked down at trail of blood leading to the bathroom. The silence between them was broken only by the odd _plink_ of metal or glass shards against ceramic and the rustle and click of first aid supplies as the asset tended its injuries. “And you’re starting to earn them, but it hasn’t been ten days.”

“I need to know,” Steve insisted. “I feel like I’m going crazy. There has to be a purpose to all this that I just can’t see.”

“There is, Steve. I promise you that. There’s a purpose. We have the noblest goal of all: peace.”

“At what cost?”

“One people will be willing to pay.”

“What people?” Steve asked darkly.

A flash of irritation was there and gone before Rumlow sighed deeply. “Innocent people die every day because terrorists and criminals run free. We can stop that. If you work _with_ us, you’ll see.”


	87. Chapter 87

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 500 comments! Thank you so much!
> 
> Also, I'm considering making this a series and putting more aftermath in another fic because I am going to run out of chapters again at this rate. 
> 
> Your comments give me life. :-D

Over the next few days, Steve developed a mantra.

_Live your role. Do your job. Don't lie. Everything is a test._

_They need to think they’re winning. It only feels like failure._

_Live your role. Do your job. Don't lie. Everything is a test._

_They need to think they’re winning. It only feels like failure._

_Live your role._

His role currently consisted of exercises meant to reinforce the asset’s dependence on its hander, _educational_ videos, the electronic equivalent of mountains of paper files, analysis of heavily redacted past mission reports, and the pretense that he could tolerate rewarding it with rape or punishing it with torture.

At this point, he had to admit that he was maybe so fucked up about the whole mess that he couldn’t have chosen which was worse for himself. He wanted to be certain that the sexual stuff wasn’t as bad for Bucky, _the asset, dammit!_ , as the other options. He had to make himself believe that.

_Live your role. Do your job. Don't lie. Everything is a test._

_They need to think they’re winning. It only feels like failure._

_Let yourself fall into their patterns._

By the time they’d been at the Retreat for five days Steve could almost hear Romanoff chanting it with him like she was standing over his shoulder.

His interactions with the asset and Rumlow were finally getting easier, becoming smoother, more automatic.

So, naturally, the asset started to have problems. Small things, at first, spells of confusion and seemingly thoughtless violence. Rumlow avoided lingering within its easy reach when it got noticeably confused. Steve pulled Bucky’s head to his chest and had him tap his fingers to the beat of Steve’s heart until he calmed. It calmed. Until the asset calmed. The asset appeared to be more upset after the lapses, when it noticed them, than it ever did during. The violence was a little harder to manage, especially when it came as paired with the confusion. No wonder HYDRA was terrified of losing control of the Winter Soldier. It gave Steve some faint hope that the damage the wipes did really might not be permanent.

“See, this is why it needs to be kept under control,” Rumlow gasped, rubbing at his throat. One minute he’d been correcting Steve in how to disable the asset’s prosthetic in an emergency and the next he’d been airborne courtesy of the asset’s other arm. Lucky for him, he’d been thrown into long grass.

“Steve? What the hell?” demanded Bucky. He, it (Steve was giving himself a headache), had stopped struggling now that Steve had him pinned against gravel in a submission hold that should never have worked on the Winter Soldier if it hadn’t been disoriented after throwing Rumlow away from them. “You _can’t_ be HYDRA! You-”

“Shhh,” Steve hissed. “It’s okay, pal. We’re all on the same side. You gotta calm down. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Bucky shook his head and struggled frantically but Steve’s hold was solid. “Steve! He's  _HYDRA_.”

_They need to think they’re winning. It only feels like failure._

_Live your role. Do your job._

“Settle down, Soldier. Commander Rumlow’s not the enemy,” Steve snapped, applying pressure until Bucky made a last distressed little huff and went silent and still beneath him. “Shh. That’s right. Just like that. Be good.”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky cried weakly. “He’s… You’re…”

“We’re all on the same side here,” Steve repeated, trying to sound soothing instead of dull. He’d fallen for a spell like this when they’d woken in the night and got his nose broken for his trouble. Maybe his right cheekbone too. The moment he’d tried to play along, the asset had turned on him. Apparently the phrase _I’ll get you out of here_ in combination with whatever scenario the asset thought they were acting out was one of those triggers for violent murder attempts. Rumlow had used the plug to shock it out of the attack. _Handler’s best friend_ , he’d reminded Steve with a kind of dark almost-satisfaction. He’d given Steve the remote for the rest of the night. Steve hadn’t used any of the settings. He wouldn’t now.

“Can I let you up now?” he asked softly.

The asset nodded, loose hair thick with gravel dust.

“Uh, Cap?” called Rumlow. “That’s maybe not…”

“You gonna fight me?”

It shook its head.

To hell with Rumlow. “Better,” Steve said firmly and released it. “Sit up.”

Slowly, without looking at him, it got its knees under it and sat blinking at nothing.

“Soldier? You with us?” Steve prompted.

“With you, Captain,” it rasped after a slightly too long hesitation.

Later, once all injuries had been attended to, including the tongue the asset had nearly bitten through when Rumlow shocked it again as punishment for harming him, they locked the asset up in the basement cell behind the forcefield. Steve had shared a bed with it the last three nights. Leaving it down there felt like…

_It only feels like failure._

The only silver lining was that he wouldn’t be expected to fuck it tonight.

“Come on, Steve,” Rumlow said when Steve didn’t immediately follow him up the stairs. “Things will be easier in the morning.”

 

The doctor came early the next day. This was the same doctor Rumlow had suggested if Steve wasn’t willing to try talk therapy. He introduced himself as Dr. White. Steve had almost forgotten about the threatened psychological evaluation and decided to keep his opinion that the guy looked like a cartoon villain with glasses to himself. There were unwelcome questions. He answered them with reluctant honesty, keenly aware that just because Rumlow and the asset had gone outside didn’t mean they wouldn’t know what he said. _Don't lie. Everything is a test._

Once the questions were done, the doctor handed Steve a pair of headphones.

“What are these for?” Steve felt more than a little wrung out and it wasn’t even noon. He didn’t think he’d said anything to suggest he might be a threat to himself or others, outside the expectations of their work, but that didn’t mean much in the scheme of things. According to Rumlow, the man wasn’t even SHIELD, so all bets were off. Was this some sort of brainwashing device?

“To help you relax,” said the doctor. “Hypnosis is a delicate art. It can’t work without the subject’s cooperation. If you believe I can help you, I can help you establish some more positive thoughts and behaviors.”

Definitely a brainwashing device. “I, uh, I’m not really comfortable with this,” Steve said hurriedly. How stupid did HYDRA think he was? “There’s no way I’ll be able to relax today.”

The doctor acted disappointed but not especially surprised. Steve was relieved when he declined Rumlow’s offer to stay for lunch and departed without making any further attempt to convince Steve to try the hypnosis.


	88. Chapter 88

Another day went by, with both supersoldiers increasingly volatile. Steve itched with hypervigilance and apprehension. Bucky’s confusion was more or less constant. Aggressive or violent spells went from daily to hourly. Rumlow wouldn’t handle the asset physically. Steve became an expert in talking it down. Bucky could shift from clinging to him to going for his throat in a fraction of a second. It was exhausting.

The doctor came and went. The asset didn’t have to be hustled out of sight after that first time. It avoided the man more than willingly and took any subsequent opportunity to touch Steve all over after the doctor departed. Steve refused the headphones and, later, what he was told was a VR headset, but the days were beginning to blur with anxiety and fatigue nevertheless.

When Rumlow at last told him he’d get some answers later, it didn’t feel like ten days.

“Has it really been ten days?“ he wondered under his breath as he ran laps around the cabin with the asset. Try as he might, he could only pin down the events of eight or nine.

It shot him a look of alarm and breathed, “You get unstable too?”

He hadn’t really let himself think it that explicitly, but there was a reason he hadn’t challenged Rumlow about what day it was.

_I’m the real Steve Rogers. The real me. I’m not a Winter Soldier. I’m not brainwashed or mindwiped._

_I only_ wish _I had that much excuse._

_Don’t think about it. Let yourself fall into their patterns._

_Live your role. Do your job. Don't lie. Everything is a test._

_They need to think they’re winning. It only feels like failure._

No matter how fast Steve ran, he couldn’t get away from his churning thoughts. There was no escaping his horrific doubts and awful suspicions.

Then Bucky got quiet and twitchy during dinner, broke a plate, and went after Rumlow with the pieces and Steve was almost distracted enough to be grateful. Would Rumlow just get on with it already?

It took nearly everything Steve had to force Bucky to the ground and press his head to Steve’s chest. Bucky had spent a lot of time listening to Steve’s heart and lungs both before and after the serum. The fact that listening to Steve’s heartbeat did anything to calm the asset was Steve’s current strongest proof that this really was his Bucky.

But it almost wasn’t enough this time. They had to sedate the asset after this latest outburst. At least, with Bucky’s face pressed to Steve’s shirt on one side and Steve’s arm on the other, he didn’t have a chance to react to the syringe before Rumlow depressed the plunger.

The sedative worked almost immediately; it was probably the same stuff they’d shot Steve with, but just the right dosage. Steve gathered Bucky up and went to the couch while Rumlow picked up shards of plastic plate and a handful of escaped potatoes. Steve arranged them so Bucky lay on the couch with his shoulders against Steve’s thighs so he could pet his dark head.

_And be in position to take him to the floor and pin his left arm if necessary._

_Don’t think about it._

Once the mess was cleaned up, Steve prompted, “How about those answers?”

“You sure you’re up for that, Steve?” Rumlow came to stand in front of the television, arms folded. His earpiece was dangling instead of in his ear. An unwanted and vaguely farcical comparison with the speaker in a TED talk video Barton had sent him popped into Steve’s mind.

“I’m sure.” He took a calming breath and tried to relax his jaw. “Don’t bother trying to bullshit me this time. I’m not stupid, Brock,” he said quietly, stroking Bucky’s long soft hair pillowed in his lap. “And I think the asset is less confused than you want me to believe.”

Rumlow released a puff of air that might have been a laugh. “So, what, you think we’re HYDRA, Cap?”

_Don’t flinch. Don’t flinch._

He flinched anyway. No matter.

“Maybe opportunists using the name to keep the Winter Soldier under control and do things Fury can’t approve. And maybe Secretary Pierce likes the idea of being a spy like Director Fury a bit too much. Has to be a reason you don’t want me talking to him. Or Fury.”

That got him a surprised look. “I’m not keeping you away from Pierce or Fury, Steve. Is that really what you think?”

“I notice you’re not denying the HYDRA part,” Steve said. It came out more bitter than he’d planned.

“Heh,” said Rumlow, a humorless huff. “It’s a means to an end.”

And Steve had known for months, _months_ , but having it out in the open was different.

“This… it changes things?” Rumlow prodded.

There was a long tense silence.

“No.” His own voice seemed to come from far away. “It doesn’t.”

Rumlow stared at him. Steve stared back as steadily as he could. He’d made his decision over a week ago. He’d made it months ago, really.

_Live your role. Do your job. Don't lie. Everything is a test._

_They need to think they’re winning. It only feels like failure._

It hurt, but he said, “It doesn’t matter if I’m right. So is everyone else.”

“You… _Rogers_.”

“It’s funny,” Steve said. “When I was a kid, all I wanted was to make the world be better. Do my part. Prove I could do what I had to, even if all I could do was stand back up. Can’t stop now. They’ll never let us go. Whoever _they_ are. Can’t have supersoldiers loose in the world.”

“Steve…” Somehow, Rumlow actually sounded like he might be a little regretful.

“Tell me the truth, Brock. Are HYDRA and SHIELD the same? Does HYDRA run our missions? ”

Rumlow said nothing. Steve imagined the furious calculation that must be going on in his head but his face showed almost nothing.

So be it. Steve wasn’t about to take back the questions just to avoid the pressure of the silence.

His hands formed fists and he had to look away. “I guess that’s my answer, then. So, which one did you join first, Brock? Why would you even consider HYDRA? How can you…” He stared down at the asset and couldn’t even finish the question. He didn’t listen to the first part of the answer either. The rage was welling up from where it had been suppressed, like underground fire being fed new oxygen.

“I didn’t know about Bucky Barnes,” Rumlow was saying. He’d grown paler than Steve had ever seen. Steve wondered what he was showing to make Rumlow look like that. “I swear, I didn’t know, Cap. He was my hero, growing up. I was told the asset wasn’t the real one. I believed the evidence. I didn’t _know_. I still don’t, not for sure. You’re compromised and you know it. I don’t want it to be true. I mean, we’re HYDRA but we’re _American_.”

“I believe you, Brock,” Steve said heavily. There was a pause. More than anything, Steve felt tired. “But HYDRA? How can we be…” He trailed off with an angry sigh. “Help me make sense of this, _please_ , Brock. How can the organization Peggy and Howard founded to make us safer be _HYDRA_?”

A number of expressions passed over Rumlow’s face. Finally, he said, “HYDRA has been an arm of SHIELD since the organization was founded. We _do_ make the world safer.”

Or the whole of SHIELD was a head of HYDRA, but the enormity of that idea was almost too much for Steve to consider. His laugh was angry and hollow and probably a bit hysterical. Burning out. Starving.

"I guess it's too much to hope for that this is the point where _I'm_ the one who gets sedated and dragged off to the chair,” he said, bowed over the Winter Soldier’s dark head. He threaded his fingers through its hair, working out some of the tangles.

“What?”

“Just tell me this: is it true? I'm just another HYDRA supersoldier programmed to think that I'm Steve Rogers?”

“Shit, Steve," exclaimed Rumlow. He sounded angry. Reluctantly curious, Steve turned his head to look at him. "Where the hell did you get an idea like that from?”

"The asset said –"

Rumlow huffed. “And that’s your problem right there. Listening to the asset. It doesn’t remember shit so it makes shit up to fill in the gaps. Why the fuck would we want you to feel like you should be HYDRA’s enemy, huh? We want you with us. By choice. So we can save humanity. If you'd been ours from the start we wouldn't need to convince you, all we'd need would be a handler and some command codes.”

Steve wanted to believe him. “Is all of SHIELD HYDRA? Was it always? Am I the only one who didn't know?”

“Pretty much all of it and yeah, we've been here all along. There are a handful whose skills are valuable enough we keep them but they don't know who they're working for. They do HYDRA’s work all the same.”

“Like me,” Steve said bleakly.

“It's good work, Steve.”

“The Winter Soldiers…”

There was tension in the asset’s muscles again.

“Are necessary. _Is_ necessary, since we only really got the one we can use.”

“The way we treat it?”

Rumlow scoffed, arms crossed, but the set of his shoulders had relaxed a little when Steve said _we._ “You went along with it before anyone said HYDRA. Nothing's changed, Steve. _Asset._ What the fuck did you tell him?”

It stirred in Steve’s arms and he reluctantly let it go so it could slip off the couch to kneel and look up at Rumlow. “Bad supersoldiers are put back in the cold, Commander.”

"Oh, for fuck’s sake…" Rumlow slapped it.

Steve flinched. The asset let the blow turn its head before it looked back at Rumlow.

"Captain Rogers isn't like you, asset. He's not a Winter Soldier. He's more like… Johann Schmidt. The Red Skull. Know that name from your lessons?"

The asset considered this before cautiously nodding its head.

An involuntary pained smile, more like a wince, stretched Steve's lips. "Not a comparison I ever thought I'd be relieved to hear," he said weakly.

Eyeing him, Rumlow asked, “Gonna freak out?”

He swallowed thickly and shook his head. “It’s really the same?” He hesitated. “There’s no difference?”

One side of Rumlow’s face was pulling up in something between a grimace and a smile. “Never has been, not really.”

“Then…” Steve had to stop and remind himself to breathe. He’d known this conversation would be bad but he felt like his chest was collapsing, like he was on the verge of an asthma attack or bleeding out with a collapsed lung. “What you said… about SHIELD. No victory. No end to… to any of this...Is that…”

Rumlow exhaled like he’d been watching a bomb be defused and Steve supposed that wasn’t too far wrong. “One thing for SHIELDRA over the old HYDRA and SHIELD? Agents have retirement plans.”

Despite Steve’s best effort’s, Rumlow refused to elaborate and left him blinking on the couch with Bucky at his feet. Bucky was swaying on his knees just enough to be noticeable. That sedative packed a real punch. 


	89. Chapter 89

That night, Steve paced the cabin, unable to keep himself still. The Winter Soldier was locked up downstairs. They were supposed to return to SHIELD in the morning. To HYDRA. Just like that.

“Settle down, Cap,” Rumlow said, watching him from where he sat on the other bed.

Steve resisted the urge to bare his teeth at him, like an animal. Rumlow said he was a person, not a Winter Soldier. He ought to be relieved. At the very least, he ought to be able to act like it.

“What happens tomorrow?” he demanded, voice low.

“The asset gets wiped and returned to cryostasis. We get debriefed by the Secretary and go home. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Rumlow raised an eyebrow at Steve’s deepening scowl. “Why, what were you expecting?”

Steve imagined his face said it all.

With a yawn, Rumlow rubbed at his eye. “Let me say it again, Steve. _Nothing has changed._ SHIELD is SHIELD is HYDRA is SHIELD. Any difference now is in your head. Just lie down. Things will seem better in the morning.”

_Live your role. Do your job. Don't lie. Everything is a test._

_They need to think they’re winning. It only feels like failure._

It _was_ a failure and Steve wasn’t going to lie about his feelings.

“Fuck you, Rumlow,” Steve snarled. “I’m gonna go sleep with the asset.” Maybe he could do something to get through if the brainwashing was breaking down enough. If nothing else, it was worth it to be alone with Bucky for a little while.

The HYDRA Commander raised both eyebrows. “You’re freaking out about HYDRA - Oh, don’t deny it, Cap. You can’t lie for shit - and your reaction is to lock yourself up with the unstable Winter Soldier?”

Glower firmly in place, jaw set, Steve crossed his arms. It was a defensive movement, one that would hopefully keep Rumlow gloating (because he had to be) and not looking at him as a danger.

“Well, have it your way. Just don’t do anything you wouldn’t do with it, Stevie.”

God, but Steve wanted to hit him. Just once. It would be so sweet to knock that look off his face.

“I won’t,” he snapped and turned to go. “And don’t fuckin’ call me that.”

He was almost to the stairs when Rumlow called, “Hey. Wait. _Steve_.”

Reluctantly, Steve looked back. “What.”

“Don’t do anything stupid to prove some sort of moral point, Steve. That’s not your friend down there. You gotta take some sort of precautions or I can’t let you go down there alone.”

The words were a shock. _Don’t do anything stupid._

Steve snorted mirthlessly. “How could I? I’m taking the remote.”

“Huh,” said Rumlow.

Bucky was pacing in agitation when Steve descended the steps but backed up when the forcefield shut down.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, stepping forward cautiously.

Bucky didn’t quite look at him as he backed up another step.

“Bucky?” Steve prompted. “You with me?”

That got him a nod.

“I’m not gonna hurt you tonight,” he promised. “I just… I just want to be with you. Talk, maybe.”

Shoulders rising in what might have been a cringe, Bucky drew in a breath.

“You can talk,” Steve encouraged, wanting to cringe himself.

“Captain. Steve…” said Bucky. “You should. If this isn’t a mission or training or maintenance, it should be recreation.”

“I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have to.”

Bucky, or it was probably the asset, gave him a vaguely pitying look. “That’s not hurting me. It’s what I’m for. My secondary function. I was made to want to be used by you.”

_Live your role. Do your job. Don't lie. Everything is a test._

_They need to think they’re winning. It only feels like failure._

_Let yourself fall into their patterns._

“By me?” Steve questioned, not a little bitterly, “or by a handler?”

Bucky swallowed, backing up into the side of the bed and sitting down. “You’re better. I’m yours. I’m not stupid. I know my head is all wrong. I don’t remember much, but I know things. I know I’m yours.” When Steve hesitated, he added, “Please. Steve.”

Steve blew out a breath. “Fine. Scoot over. If this is my recreational time with you, what I want is to cuddle.”

So they did. It was awkward until they relaxed enough to melt against each other. Steve thought he wouldn’t so much as doze, but the steadiness of Bucky’s heart lulled him to sleep with surprising speed.

Later, the asset tried to kill him after Steve coaxed Bucky out of a nightmare. Apparently, the words  _let me help you_ were dangerous too, under the wrong circumstances. Once they'd both calmed again, they'd gone right back to sleep, skin to skin, with Bucky's ear pressed to Steve's chest. 

They switched positions some time in the night, so Steve woke in Bucky’s arms. His head felt fuzzy, like he'd slept longer and more deeply than he usually did. Slept came more easily for him with Bucky close, even with the possibility of accidentally triggering a murder attempt. Things really didn’t seem as dire as they had the night before. He could do this. He would. All he had to do was play the part. As the part was _himself_ , that shouldn’t be as impossible as it had felt before.

A hand slid over his chest and Bucky pressed his face into Steve’s neck. “Yours. Please, Steve? Wanna please you.”

He felt himself calm just at the sound of Bucky’s voice.

The asset knelt up and slid down to bend over Steve’s cock. Steve rested his hand on its head without seeking to control it. Bucky was his, wanted to be his. There would be no need for force. That was the whole point of staying together. No need to fight. Peace. Freedom.

“Go ahead, Soldier,” Steve said.

Bucky smiled at him and went to work.

 


	90. Chapter 90

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short transition chapter before we start timeskipping!

The second day after they returned from the Retreat, Steve got a phone call from the Smithsonian. The curator for the Captain America exhibit wasn’t pleased to be used as a messenger.

"Yeah, of course," Steve said, trying to sound contrite instead of just numb. “I know who that’s from. I'll come pick it up immediately.”

It was a Dear John letter from his fictitious girlfriend. Steve read it a dozen times, memorized it, and still couldn’t find anything he understood as a coded message. Was it just support for his cover?

The upshot was that his unexpected absence had made her realize that he wasn’t a safe guy to have any relationship with and the more she thought about SHIELD keeping tabs on him, the more uncomfortable she was. Furthermore, she’d met someone else. Someone she could rely on to be there. He wanted to be exclusive. Steve should understand. She was sure he had people lining up to be with him, so he shouldn’t miss her too much.

The letter was signed _Honey_. Confirmation it had been written by Natasha Romanoff.

It was for the best, really, he told himself, crumpling the page. He would have had to break up with her anyway. He was too deeply involved with Bucky and HYDRA to plausibly maintain an outside relationship.

Oh, fuck. He felt filthy, even though he knew he was physically clean.

Steve lurched for his bathroom, stripping frantically as he went. As soon as the shower was on, long before it warmed up, he threw himself under the water. He didn’t feel any less like scum, but at least it hid his tears.

The water was running cold again by the time he forced himself to stop the shower. He groped for a towel as he stumbled out. It was plausible that he should slip and fall against the door. It was plausible that he might break off the doorknob.

Steve had no reason to feel abandoned. They’d planned for this. It would have happened long before now if he had been a better spy. He had other ways to communicate. It would be like the early days when he couldn’t report in regularly. Natasha’s concern for his mental state and his need for coaching had superseded Fury’s paranoia for a time. That was all. He didn’t need regular check-ins in person.

God, he was lonely.

Once he was dressed again, he picked up his landline and called the number for the building super to report the broken doorknob. HYDRA and SHIELD were both watching him, if there was even any real difference. ( _Don’t think about it. Romanoff and Fury aren’t HYDRA. This isn’t a plot to break you. Don’t think about it._ ) Only Romanoff should recognize the broken doorknob as the message it was supposed to be.

_I’m in._

But he was so fucking lonely.

Steve was calling Brock Rumlow before he even thought about it.

 

"Maybe lay off the kissing," Rumlow suggested, on the way to the briefing for their next mission. "That shit’s getting kind of gay."

Steve scoffed. "And here I thought it's not gay if it's with the Winter Soldier.”

Rumlow looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, but you've convinced yourself that the asset used to be Barnes," he pointed out. He, apparently, had no trouble forgetting what they'd both had to accept at the Retreat. Maybe he'd never accepted the truth at all.

Baring his teeth a little, Steve said, "Are we making you uncomfortable, Brock?"

The HYDRA Commander looked very uncomfortable. "Just want to make sure you know what it'll look like if you act like that in front of the team."

"Sounds like you're trying to talk me out of staying."

It was Rumlow's turn to scoff. "Please, Rogers. You thought you belong anywhere else, you’d have gotten out months ago."

Though he grit his teeth against Rumlow's words, he couldn’t deny the truth in them. Everything Rumlow had said when he visited Steve's apartment was true. The Avengers weren’t a real team, not like STRIKE. Brock Rumlow and the Winter Soldier were the closest that Steve had to friends now. Romanoff was barely more than Steve's SHIELD handler. He wanted it to be more because he wanted a human connection. Something the Black Widow was no more capable of than the Winter Soldier when it had been freshly wiped.

Steve knew better than to lie. Anyway, he didn't have to lie to Rumlow. "And I can do more good here, with the team, than on my own." That would always be the deciding factor.

The smirk might have been genuine. "Yes, you can," Rumlow agreed.


	91. Chapter 91

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hops, skips, and jumps forward in the life of the asset/Bucky and Handler!Steve.

The first thing Steve did when they finished their mission and he could get the damn mask off was kiss the asset in front of Rumlow and Rollins. Between Steve’s split lip and the asset’s cut inside cheek, the kiss was bloody. Their teeth were stained red when they parted, panting. Steve took great pleasure in the disgusted horror on Rumlow’s face. High on the unexpectedly giddy thrill of survival, he pulled Bucky against his side and spent the flight back stroking the tension out of his neck and shoulder.

Bucky’s head injury meant the tech team took custody of him before anything else happened.

Next time it was just the three of them, he’d let the asset hold his hand or something. Rollins would follow Rumlow’s lead and do nothing.

Steve went home. He could still smell the Winter Soldier, Bucky, on his filthy stealth suit, lingering with a familiar sour-sweet scent of leather and blood with an overlay of smoke and fresh sweat. Unthinking, he buried his face in it. _Bucky._ A startling and repellent jolt of arousal made him drop the suit with a gasp.

Sickened by himself, he left it crumpled on the floor while he fled to the shower to cry and do his best not to think.

It was hard to act normal when nothing was normal.

_We get back from a mission, you stay in and mostly sleep. Next day, maybe you go grocery shopping or do some laundry. Then you're off to a museum for a hush-hush hook up._

There would be no hook up. For sure, he had to be under significantly more scrutiny than even before. Meeting was too great a risk.

Steve stayed in and slept. The next day, he ordered groceries delivered and reluctantly did a bare minimum of laundry.

This time, he didn’t contact anyone. The desperation for contact was churning under his skin, but he didn’t call Rumlow again. He didn’t even consider going to a museum.

His neighbor, Kate, looked at him with concern the one time he ventured out to meet a pizza delivery person at the door. From her expression, how not-okay he was had to be obvious. He gave her a friendly smile which felt wrong on his face, like stretching a mask over something any sane person should recoil from.

She smiled uneasily in response and Steve went back to bed, feeling worse than before. The pies cooled on the coffee table, untouched.

The next day, his damn supersoldier body demanded fuel. He got up and ate the cold pizza before he put on clean clothes and forced himself to the gym. He couldn’t give anyone a reason to keep him away from missions with STRIKE.

With the asset.

Bucky.

He destroyed three heavy bags and told himself he felt better.

 

Next time turned out to be a STRIKE Delta mission with Alpha along in case the Black Widow’s extraction got messy. No Winter Soldier. No mention of HYDRA.

Not that there had been any mention on the previous mission, either.

“They’re a couple of the few?” Steve murmured to Rumlow once Hawkeye and Black Widow had left.

Rumlow hummed a confirmation. “Very attached to their idea of breaking from their pasts. The work’s no different, but it makes them feel better or some shit. I got no fucking idea, tell you the truth. Seems like it’s all the same to me.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed quietly, stomach lead. It didn’t make sense that Rumlow acted like his agreement was expected. Maybe Steve didn’t have a dark past to want to put behind him, but he knew there was a difference between doing what they did for HYDRA and doing what they did for SHIELD. He was sure. (He wasn’t sure at all.)

Hawkeye’s voice broke into the silence, calling for backup, and the team was moving.

Steve did what he knew he was supposed to, running and jumping and punching and blocking more on automatic than with any thought, and paid for it with an unanticipated blow to his head from behind. He staggered forward. Another blow coupled with a painful and paralyzing surge of electricity and he was down, helpless before… “Nnnn…. Black Widow?” She shocked him again. _What the fuck? Does she know? Wait, we’re on the same side. What the fuck, Romanoff?_

Stunned, he lay still, gathering his strength and wits as he waited for her attack to start making sense.

“I found Rogers,” he heard her report. “He’s unconscious. His comms look fried.”

Steve resisted the urge to lift his head. If Natasha wanted him to be unconscious, well, he wasn’t in much of a position to do anything else at the moment.

“No. Yes. _No._ You think _I_ can carry him? Give me ninety seconds to try to wake him.”

_Oh._

“Captain Rogers? Steve?”

At that, he did raise his head. “Romanoff,” he groaned.

 _“Sorry_ ,” she mouthed at him, not looking very sorry at all. “How many fingers am I holding up?” she asked. “ _Are you brainwashed?”_

 _Really?_ “Ten,” he said, but thumbs didn’t count. “ _No_ , I mean eight.”

“Can you stand?” she asked. “ _Do you need rescue?”_

_Why, so you can hit me with another Widow’s Bite? I didn’t need rescuing until you suckered me!_

“I’m fine,” he told her, using the wall to claw his way back to his feet.

She pulled his other arm over her shoulders. “Better safe than sorry,” she said, sounding a little apologetic this time. “You were out longer than I’m comfortable with and I’d prefer not to be the agent who lost Captain America.”

They both knew she didn’t mean his supposed unconsciousness.

 _Me either_ , he thought with dark humor, maybe a little crazy with relief.

“Better safe than sorry,” she said again, later, when the doctors at the Triskelion insisted he stay overnight for observation.

Steve got the hint.

That night, she came to visit him with a device that did something so they didn’t have to worry about surveillance, an apologetic hug, and a new plan for how they could meet.

 

Maybe he _had_ been brainwashed, at least a little, or at least desensitized, because the next mission was somehow more real. All through, he felt absolutely raw with helpless horror and a deep burning anger.

Steve hated being helpless. He hated HYDRA. Something had to give.

“You won’t prove Rumlow right about you,” Natasha told him, like it was obvious. “You’re in. You’re committed. When the time comes, we’ll help you get out. You won’t do anything stupid.”

Steve ended up sobbing, he laughed so hard at that. The emotional release helped, a little, though, so maybe she was right.

But he needed some way to continue to resist.

 

In direct contravention of the tech team’s insistence that STRIKE stop feeding the asset candy, Steve tucked a bag of Hershey’s kisses into his belt before the next mission. They’d been around since before he was born and it was nice to find something familiar, even it they didn’t look or taste quite the same as when he’d last had them before the serum.

Rumlow had mostly given up trying to convince him to stop kissing the asset, but that didn’t mean the senior handler was good with Steve feeding it chocolate kisses.

“What’s next, flowers?” he complained.

The surprised bliss on Bucky’s face was enough to make Steve grin. Not looking away, he said, “Aw, Brock, are we making you jealous? You really think I’m the flowers type? I’m only trying to undo the mess you made so the asset will let the techs work on its mouth without having to sedate it again.”

Laughing sharply, Rumlow said, “Aw, Steve, you don’t think I’m fooled, do you? We all know the asset will take whatever _you_ put in its mouth.”

 

God help him, it was true.

 

Kissing the asset was good. There were no doubts left in Steve’s mind that the asset liked that part. Kissing, most touching, if Steve did it. There were little tells. The STRIKE agents chose to ignore most signs of discomfort, but Steve didn’t. He catalogued every flinch and wince and hesitation and tried not to do the things that provoked them unless he had to put on a show.

Kissing Bucky, whatever scenario he was allowed to exist in, was actually worse. Bucky put emotion into his kisses like he was trying to drown Steve in all the years of ice and water between who they were now and who they had been. Sometimes it was positive emotion. Sometimes it was negative emotion. Sometimes, the worst times, Steve couldn’t tell anything beyond the strength of it.

If the stakes had been less high, Steve would have drowned more than willingly.

 

"Damn," Steve said, with feeling.

What he had initially thought was a deep laceration from a knife now turned out to be a bullet wound, bullet still included.

It wasn't too bad. The wound was high in his right calf. He could get at it just fine. The armor in his combat suit had stopped most of the force. He could patch himself up without the help of a medic. The bullet had only penetrated about an inch and a half. Okay, maybe more like four centimeters, but he would heal.

But he would miss the party. Steve tried not to do that. Especially after a mission like this one, when the asset hadn't earned a reward.

Steve had not been the only one injured. They had met their objectives, but it had been a close thing. Available evidence suggested the near-disaster had been the result of faulty intelligence, which was far from the asset’s fault, but the team was upset and the asset was an easy target.

As a concession to his discomfort with continuing to work for SHIELD, he had been able to make some minor changes in the way the Winter Soldier was handled. He wouldn't allow cruelty for cruelty's sake. There had to be a clear purpose, related to the soldiers conditioning, for their interactions. The handler’s-best-friend plug made an appearance only on long missions, when there was a chance the asset would destabilize enough to need it. This hadn't been one of those. Rumlow, a senior handler, and still more trusted than Steve might ever be, had sets of trigger words and phrases with which to control the asset. The rest of the team had numbers and weapons. More than once, he saw it shrink from a stun baton.

Steve was the only one capable of laying hands on it and calming it with both words and body. He was the only one Bucky would settle for willingly, regardless of mental state, more often than not.

Steve was the only one who could be completely alone with the asset without fear that it would turn on him. Oh, it still lashed out, but those incidents were few and far between and always, always, Steve's fault. The triggers did what they did. Steve could only be thankful that he was the one that Winter Soldier attacked when an appeal was made to Bucky. Steve was a supersoldier. The Winter Soldier pretending to be Bucky wasn't a serious threat unless Steve did something stupid.

It wasn’t easy. It could never be easy.

But he could do it. So he did.

Most of the time, the asset was happy to comply. Bucky was usually happy to see Steve, in just about any capacity.

Steve was happy to be able to help at all. Even like this. It was all he could do.

By the time he was finished extracting the bullet, cleaning the wound, and bandaging himself, the rest of his team was mostly finished with the Winter Soldier. The last one out was responsible for cleanup. It was STRIKE tradition. Steve didn't mind cleaning up. He only worried about what might have happened to the asset while he wasn't there to rein them in. This time, it didn't look like they'd been too rough on it. The way Agent Wallace was carefully cleaning his arm suggested he might have fisted it again, but the asset could take that. The fading green and yellow mark above the asset’s right eyebrow was an artifact of the mission.

 _Good_ , Steve thought with something like satisfaction. He wouldn't have to reprimand anyone for losing discipline. He and Rumlow had had to make an example of Agent Nolan about a month ago and the lesson seemed to be holding. Steve, Rumlow, and the Secretary were the only ones permitted to discipline the asset and it took it better from Steve. It took everything better from Steve. Steve could only be grateful for the lingering influence of his past with Bucky which enabled him to make the asset’s life easier now. He hated seeing it in pain, and he knew the sentiment was mutual.

There was no hiding his temporary limp as he moved to a bench built into wall behind one of the showerheads. Bucky’s light blue eyes narrowed as they followed his motion.

"Come here, Soldier," he ordered. He leaned back on the shower bench, ignoring the startling coolness of the wet ceramic, and spread his thighs in invitation.

The asset shuffled to him on its knees and legs. Slowly, it lay its cheek on his thigh as it looked up at him. It was hard to read that familiar face so soon out of cryo and after a wipe. It could have been adoration, resignation, or simple exhaustion. But it wasn't pain and it wasn't betrayal and that was really all Steve could expect at a time like this.

Steve wasn't hard. He didn't want to be. He didn't deserve too much of a reward either, though, so he ordered the asset to coax him to hardness and gave himself over to its dedicated affections. It didn’t take long before he felt the now-familiar sensations of approaching organsm. "Soldier!" He gasped, close, and yanked at its wet hair until it pulled away. Bewildered and almost hurt, the asset stared up at him with a flushed face and reddened lips. "No reward for me either," he subvocalized, for its ears only. "Not after that shitshow."

In the months since he’d had to accept working for HYDRA, Steve had developed ways to keep himself as sane as possible. Only Rumlow, with the access he had as STRIKE Commander, had any chance of figuring out how Steve had almost screwed up this mission for HYDRA. BY the time Rumlow was released from medical treatment, there would be no way to tell where the black lines censoring the intelligence reports in their briefing had been added to. Sometimes it was handy to have an artist’s eye in addition to enhanced eyesight. It was an undetectable match, if anyone thought to check. He explained himself using the asset’s definition of reward while he rewarded himself by letting himself _not_ get off after the mission. Allowing the asset to suck him at all was his punishment for only _almost_ ruining the mission.

All the other agents were gone now, but it paid to be careful. Besides, the asset really liked this and now was a perfect moment for him to give it something it liked. Breathing a little raggedly, he willed his erection to go away as he untangled his fingers from the dark mess of Bucky’s hair. The asset wasn’t hard anymore either.

"Get up," he ordered. It rose immediately, and he smiled at it past the lump of guilt in his throat. "You wash my back and I'll wash yours?"

It nodded eagerly before offering a hand to help him stand. When he accepted, it kissed the inside of his wrist. It didn't have to do that. It hadn’t been commanded to help him up or even to take special care when it reached the water-resistant bandage on Steve’s leg. Those little gestures were Steve's comfort and the source of his hope.


	92. Chapter 92

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this puts me over 100k for this garbage.

“Cap!” Rumlow called, striding purposefully toward his table in the Triskelion cafeteria. It was about five in the morning. Once he’d turned in his write-up of their most recent mission, Steve hadn’t felt able to wait to eat. The food wasn’t terrible. It was better than army food, at least. This early in the morning, the breakfast food was even fairly fresh. He’d had about a pot of coffee with an omelet and a couple of muffins so far and had just been contemplating waiting for the hashbrowns he knew would be started in about half an hour. If he asked, the cooks would probably start them early, but he hated to ask.

“Rumlow,” Steve returned. He took another sip of coffee and tried not to make a face. Of necessity, he’d learned to put cream and sugar in it, but he preferred it black when he didn’t need the calories. He put the mug down and rubbed at his face. “We’re not going back out, are we? I think the others have all left for home by now.”

He’d be shocked if they had stuck around as long as the team leaders had. Even Steve was ready to fall face-first into bed as soon as he could. A tense twenty-eight hour standoff followed by a three-hour firefight and a five-hour prisoner transport in the quinjet would do that to a guy, supersoldier or not, especially when it was chased by a couple of mandatory orgasms.

Steve really hoped they weren’t going back out.

“Nah,” said Rumlow. He leaned against the table and eyed Steve’s coffee with longing. He was still wearing a headset and combat gear, but at least it was a fresh set. Steve was in his civvies. “We’re needed for something to do with tech.”

With a sigh, Steve pushed the pot toward him. “Why us? Tech’s not my strong-suit.” SHIELD had taken custody of all the alien weapons they had found in the cult compound, but that didn’t mean the team that had acquired them had any special insight. “Didn’t think it was yours either, Brock.”

Rumlow lowered the newly emptied coffee pot and raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

 _Oh._ God, he felt slow right now. Even a ninety-minute nap would be good. _Tech as in the asset’s tech team. Fuck._

“What for?” He hoped they weren’t being called in to punish the asset.

“Didn’t say. Gotta go now, though.”

Or Rumlow couldn’t tell him anything else in the SHIELD cafeteria. Steve knew how it went. Reluctantly, he got up and bussed his dishes before grabbing the bag with his shield and uniform and following Rumlow out to the motor pool, trying not to yawn too obviously.

They took a non-descript sedan, Rumlow driving because he was the one who knew where they were going. Steve counted himself lucky he hadn’t been blindfolded or anything.

“Can you tell me where we’re headed?” he tested. “I’d like to know if I’ve got time for a nap.” He hadn’t slept at all on the mission, even when the rest of STRIKE had taken shifts during the standoff portion.

“The Vault,” Rumlow said shortly. “Not far. Sorry, Steve.”

Shortly before they got out of the car in a private below-ground parking garage, he added, “You might want to brace yourself, Cap. This is where the asset is kept locally and the setup is a little… traditional.”

He ignored Steve’s questioning look and strode toward the heavily reinforced security doors.

The Vault, Steve discovered, was below a D.C. bank.

He looked around, trying to focus on anything except the chair. "Why are half of the boxes pulled out?” He was unsure if it was a comment or complaint.

Rumlow shrugged. “Aesthetics?”

“Do you even know what that means?" Steve wondered aloud.

Again, Rumlow shrugged. "It's like, for the look of things, right?”

"Yeah," Steve said, looking around the rest of the room. “Something like that.” His frown deepend. "Gotta say, I saw that footage from Siberia. This doesn't look anything like what HYDRA had there."

"Still HYDRA," Rumlow said, shrugging. “Guess it’s traditional enough not to confuse the asset.”

Personnel here were openly wearing HYDRA patches on their uniforms. Steve hadn't commented beyond saying, "Well, that brings back memories." He’d chuckled weakly along with Rumlow while the guards eyed him warily. It was clever, the way they were doing things. They would say the Vault was like the HYDRA the Soviets or the Red Skull had and never actually outright deny being HYDRA here, just like they never denied being SHIELD. No one Steve had spoken to would say they weren’t SHIELD, even if they rarely claimed they _were_. It was hard to tell how HYDRA and SHIELD were separate. Rumlow said they weren’t. Fury said they were. Steve just wanted to learn enough to stop a HYDRA-related disaster and keep Bucky as safe as possible.

What did they think? Did they think when the full truth came out, he'd say everything was alright because no one had lied to him?

_Don't think about it._

He couldn’t afford to get angry. Instead, he settled for incredulous amusement and poked fun at things like the open safety deposit boxes.

Steve tried to focus. Rumlow had said coming here was urgent. "So, are we here for a reason? Or did you just want to show me this place?"

That was when he heard it. An animal howl of rage, a scream of tearing metal, and a crash like someone was overturning a kitchen.

"Shit," hissed Rumlow. Drawing his weapon, he took off down a corridor.

Steve followed. He pulled the shield off his back and settled it on his arm.

A panicked man in a lab coat, presumably a member of the tech team Steve hadn't met before, came barreling towards them, nearly smacking into Rumlow because he was looking over his shoulder down the direction he’d come. Steve grabbed him by the collar of the lab coat.

What's going on?" he demanded.

"We were treating the asset!" The man stuttered. _Treating, not repairing. This must be one of the medical techs_. "Ashley gave it the sedative, but I don't know. It - it didn't take. It just went crazy!"

“Did it have its eyes open?” Steve asked. He and Rumlow could take the asset, he knew. If he couldn’t calm it, Steve was a pretty good match for it in combat now, especially if it was injured. _I know it wasn’t hurt on the mission or after. What the hell happened?_ Rumlow had the words which would make it obey or just collapse, the sort of thing HYDRA only gave to senior handlers they were completely sure of.

The man shook his head. "It was dehydrated. We had trouble finding a vein. It must've opened them again." He sounded a little less panicked in their presence.

Steve nodded down the corridor towards the exit. "Tell them to close the gates." He ordered. "The last thing we need is the asset dazed and disoriented on the streets of D.C. on a Friday morning in broad daylight."

The guy nodded enthusiastically and Steve released him with a light push in the right direction.

Rumlow holstered his gun and pulled out both batons. "Steve. We don't know what we’re walking into," he warned quietly.

Steve set his jaw. Nodded. "I know."

"You ready?"

"Maybe I should go first," Steve suggested. "I can usually calm it." He’d do anything he could to avoid hurting it unnecessarily.

Rumlow snorted as they started edging down the hallway. There was an eerie lack of noise coming from that direction. "Sure, Cap. You go ahead and try to work your magic. "

"And if that doesn't work," Steve agreed, "then you work yours."

"Right behind you," Rumlow said and let Steve pass him.

"It's a plan," Steve muttered.


	93. Chapter 93

Steve didn't know what to expect around the corner, except in the most general sense. This was the second Vault he had heard of. Both were used to contain highly dangerous enhanced individuals in cryostasis. The other one Steve knew about was the place in Alaska where the Army had held Emil Blonksky since the Harlem incident. It was the same as the two Retreats, and he wondered if that meant HYDRA had their own version of all the SHIELD facilities they didn’t control outright, like the Fridge.

It was a disturbing thought. He put it out of his head and tried to focus.

Rounding the corner, they found a closed metal door with a thick oblong glass window. It was probably thick enough to be bulletproof even if it wasn't the same material as was used in the real bank above the vault. It was a different kind of security door than at the entrance. This one was meant to allow observation, which screamed _lab_ or _surgery_.

Yeah, this place was plenty traditional enough to give Steve goosebumps and raised hairs. It felt like hostile territory.

Because it was.

_Don't think about it._

Sliding closer to the door, Steve raised his shield and leaned away from the wall only enough to peer through the glass. The view at the edges was distorted, but he could make out general shapes and colors and movement.

What he saw was not reassuring.

He’d been more right than he knew with the idea of the overturned kitchen. The first things to catch his attention were the legs and wheels of a steel cart in the air at a strange angle and light shining off metal. They were operating under the assumption the Winter Soldier was in there, but he couldn't immediately identify the asset’s position.

A rattle and clanking followed by a screech of metal rasping over concrete and straining against concrete. Steve took a number of longer looks and focused in the direction of the sound. He expected to find the asset in some version of the maintenance chair. Instead, the asset was twisted on its side on a metal table. Steve hesitated to call the material steel when he and Bucky could both tear steel with a little effort. given how afraid everyone here was, he doubted they would trust simple steel to hold the asset.

He didn't see the female tech anywhere. The asset was the only thing moving, pulling at its remaining restraints in an unfocused, halfhearted manner, like it'd forgotten what it was doing and was just repeating what it had been doing before without any clear sense of purpose. The sedative had clear had _some_ effect.

Steve could work out what had happened now. The asset’s adrenaline had spiked at the sight of the needle. It had torn an arm loose and thrown the female tech into a table full of instruments, overturning it. (This had to be the mysterious Ashley whose disturbing birthday gift he’d been offered after the incident with the purple gas. _Don’t think about it._ ) She was probably either unconscious or dead unless she was very lucky and smart enough to be pretending to be one of those. Steve couldn't tell from out here.

He turned back to Rumlow.

Rumlow signaled he wanted to know how many of the asset’s limbs were free. Steve peered back into the room to be sure before he held up one finger And tapped his own left arm. Of course, it was the cybernetic limb.

Steve took a breath, let it out, took another, and pushed the door open with all the confidence he could project. Instantly, the asset's attention snapped to him, but it clearly wasn't tracking well, blinking heavily and having trouble focusing. It frowned hatefully at him for a moment before its expression cleared to be replaced by something like joy.

" _Steve_ ," it said, smiling at him.

The guilt and horror Steve had managed to mostly suppress for the last few missions came roaring back. _Bucky_ , his heart insisted. _The asset_ , countered his more rational side. _Do what you have to do._ Steve knew he would have nightmares tonight of finding Bucky on Zola’s table only maybe it would be this table instead. Nightmares that they hadn’t recognized each other or that Steve had walked away with the map he’d seen on the wall instead of his friend.

Steve stepped forward. "Hey, Soldier," he said, trying to sound as calm as he could.

It blinked at him again. "Steeevie!" it slurred. It tried to sit up and was caught by the restraints on its right arm. It frowned. "I'm not supposed to call you that," it said, completely flat and then began to shake.

Steve stepped up to it quickly, afraid it was seizing. Then he thought it was crying. "Oh God," he said. He couldn't very well order it not to cry. Why was it crying? _Don't even think about it!_ he chanted.

"She's alive, Captain," said Rumlow, who had moved into the room behind him.

Just as Steve had guessed, the tech was under the overturned lab table.

"Looks like she hit her head on the wall. Can you get the asset fully restrained again?"

Steve checked the restraints. The cuff for its prosthetic was broken, "Not unless you've got a set of the magnetic cuffs on you," he said. "Hey, Soldier?"

It snapped open Bucky's eyes to focus on him.

"I'm gonna touch you," Steve told it. "I need you to go where I put you and not resist, okay?"

It blinked reddened wet eyes at him and nodded, looking miserable.

It watched as Steve took its left wrist in one hand and pressed it back to the table and placed his palm on its forehead. _Control the head and the body will follow._ "Do you know why you're here?" Steve asked. He still didn't really understand what had happened and he didn't see any visible evidence of injury on the asset.

Its eyes darted. It shook its head.

"Do you remember hitting the tech?" Steve asked. Sometimes it had no memory of lashing out.

It cringed.

Steve held its wrist and kept it from squirming away.

It nodded shallowly.

"Why did you do that, Soldier?" Steve tried to keep his voice as calm and soothing as he could even as his guts clenched at the idea of having to punish it for this.

The asset shrank away from him.

“Come on, you can tell me.” Steve added a little impatience. It wasn’t hard with Rumlow watching as closely as he was. He had a job to do and, as Rumlow often reminded him, he wasn’t going to do either of them any favors with his urge to pull it off the table and take it home and try to treat it like his best friend.

“She was gonna cut me,” the asset whispered, very pale now.

It's eyes flickered and it screwed up its face into unhappy grimace of confusion. "I… I thought…"

Rumlow stood up from his crouch over the unconscious tech. "Are you supposed to think, asset?"

The asset shook its head as much as Steve's hand allowed it to.

"Are you supposed to think, asset? Outside a mission? Are you supposed to think?" He sounded angry.

Steve took his hand from the asset's forehead and use it to block Rumlow from coming so close that he loomed over the asset.

"You nearly killed a member of your tech team. She hit her head. We don't know what damage there'll be. The tech team's purpose is to take care of you."

It shrank away from him as much as it could with the restriction of five-point restraints and Steve's hand on its wrist.

"I have the asset," Steve said, hoping to calm Rumlow. "There's an intercom or something in here, isn't there? Sounds like she needs a hospital."

"This sort of thing is why I keep my ears on," Rumlow muttered, but he stepped away to make the call.

"Steve," repeated the asset. It sounded desperate, crying again.

"Shh, Soldier, I'm with you," Steve said. This combination of rage and helplessness and horror was bitterly familiar.

Bucky stopped shaking and gazed up at him with unfocused liquid eyes.

Rumlow came back. "We should have another medical team in here in about a minute. I hope you've got a good grip on it, Rogers." To the asset, he said, "Listen, you dumb fuck, it's her job to cut you. She didn't do anything wrong. Did she tell you why?"

There was a minute shake of the head under Steve's hand.

"Of course not. This isn't a mission. You're an object right now. You don't need to know anything. You just gotta stay where you're put and accept what you're given. Now we gotta punish you later and you know how much Captain America here hates doing that."

Steve barely stopped himself from protesting. _But it was just scared. It was only trying to defend itself._ Instead, he asked, "Do you have anything to say for yourself, asset?"

“Дают - бери, а бьют - беги,” it said, going distant and unfocused again.

 _Give, take, something, run_ , Steve translated to himself. He didn’t know the other word and didn't understand what it was trying to say.

“That’s for people, asset,” snapped Rumlow.

It flinched hard, squeezed its eyes shut, and shook its head. Steve wished he could do the same. He lowered his hand from its forehead to cover its eyes as he heard footsteps and wheels approach. The three of them were silent as the tech was extracted.

"Do you know what they were going to do?" Steve questioned Rumlow. "The asset isn't injured. We would have noticed after the mission."

The commander shrugged. "Testing and preventative maintenance of some kind. We don't need to know any more than the asset does. That's all the tech team's side of things."

That answer did not sit well with Steve and he had to set his jaw against the urge to argue. Like Rumlow had said, they didn't know anything, so there was no point in arguing.

"Now what?" he prompted.

Footsteps and wheels again. The asset trembled against Steve's palm and fingers.

Rumlow made a disgusted noise. "Now we sedate it properly so someone else on the tech team can finish whatever they were doing. Must be routine if they didn’t bring in an actual doctor.”

There was a burst of activity and a team of armed guards moved in to take up positions around the room before another pair escorted in the same doctor Steve remembered from when he’d been the one drugged and secured on a table. He shot a look at Rumlow, who shrugged.

“Oh, good,” said the doctor. Steve never had gotten his name. “You can hold it?”

“Depends on what you’re going to do,” Steve answered warily.


	94. Chapter 94

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an alternate version of this part in my head but Steve would not cooperate and it was too soon. I might write it as a short later and put it on AO3. Updates should come a little faster now that I’m getting close to the aftermath I’ve already partially written.

 

Steve fought the urge to swallow only because he didn't want to look as nervous as he felt. The guards looked uncomfortable. The tech who had run into Steve and Rumlow in the hallway reentered the room to creep furtively to the doctor's side.

"Any of you chuckleheads think to bring a set of cuffs for the asset?" Rumlow demanded. He didn't look rattled. (Rumlow pretended he was mostly muscle, but Steve knew he had a lot more in common with Romanoff than with Steve himself.) There was, however, a subtle and worrying tension to him.

One of the guards produced a set of magnetic cuffs which Rumlow securely fastened back to the table. As soon as the metal arm was resecured, Steve laced their fingers together and stroked the pad of his thumb over the asset's knuckles. He felt Bucky’s eyelids flutter against his other palm. He wanted to tell Bucky, or the Winter Soldier, that everything would be okay, but he didn't know that.

The table could be rearranged in sections. Steve stroked the asset’s neck and shoulder and tried to follow Rumlow's advice to do what he was told and not ask too many questions when it came to the tech team.

"I hope you didn't have plans for the asset immediately after this, Commander, Captain.”

“What? Why?" Steve demanded. He never had been very good at keeping his mouth shut, however much he’d learned over the past year.

The doctor looked surprised. "This would be a minor outpatient procedure on the normal man," he said. "Requiring an average of three days recovery. Minor discomfort. Depending on the technique, stitches are not even always necessary. With additional surgery, it can often be undone in even regular humans, but even our Winter Soldier here needs _some_ recovery time."

The grip of the asset’s fingers on Steve's own bordered on painful.

Steve glowered on its behalf. "What exactly are we talking about here, Doctor," he demanded. He used his command voice. The guards all stood a little straighter despite themselves. Both of Rumlow's eyebrows went up. The doctor opened his mouth, then closed it.

“What are you going to do to the asset,” Steve repeated, measuring each word and trying not to growl. The asset’s fingers twitched in his.

After a long nervous hesitation, the doctor pulled himself together with a facade of professional calm. “A routine vasectomy. It's nothing to worry about," the doctor told him. “The asset’s healing ability means this operation must be repeated regularly. It has been approximately a month of operational time since the last one. ”

The doctor gestured toward the asset’s lower body and Steve was newly horrified by himself upon the realization that the asset's nakedness hadn't even registered. Outside of missions, the Winter Soldier’s nakedness was no longer something to notice.

“It is a very simple operation. A small incision is made in each testicle. The vas deferens is pulled out, severed, cauterized, and replaced. This prevents sperm from entering the semen and being ejaculated. Unused sperm are naturally and harmlessly reabsorbed by the body. Seminal fluid continues to be produced and the body will behave normally when aroused. It can ejaculate, but the seminal fluid will not contain sperm. We can't afford any... accidents involving the asset’s genetic material.”

Steve had learned a frightening amount of new science and math since his long ago days as a struggling art student in the 1940s. People could get DNA from skin cells and hair follicles and blood. If the doctor meant accidental pregnancies, well, there was a simple method of prevention that didn’t involve using scalpels to mess with anyone’s testicles. The simple thought of what the vasectomy actually involved was enough for Steve to feel like his own genitals were trying to shrink away. The asset was trying to shrink away too, but the asset was restrained to the table.

Steve’s face had to be doing something because Rumlow was eyeing him with real concern. “Cap?”

A strange calm came over him, like the pause before committing to battle. “Commander,” he said. “I’d like to speak to you outside for a moment, if you would. Doctor, don’t touch the asset until we come back.”

Bemused, Rumlow followed him out through the door. “Cap?” he prompted warily.

Steve almost never called Rumlow by his rank to his face. Both of them were Agents of SHIELD, HYDRA notwithstanding, and SHIELD ran on a system of levels.

“I can’t... “ He swallowed thickly and tried again. “I can’t let this happen, Brock. I _can’t_.”

Rumlow just looked resigned. They’d gotten to know each other far too well. “Damn it, Rogers. What are you planning?”

The thought had been in the back of Steve’s mind for months now. “Do you think we can convince the Secretary to make the asset’s rewards and secondary function exclusive to handlers?”

Rubbing his cheekbones wearily, Rumlow asked, “You want a mutiny, Captain? Do you like fucking it that much? It’s just a body and some fucked up Soviet murder/sexbot programming. You really are gay for it, aren’t you.”

Steve didn’t look away. “I hear it’s called bisexual these days. And he’s, it’s, _mine_ , Brock. You’ve seen us together. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I'm talking about. The Winter Soldier is yours too, but all of it, including the Bucky parts, is _mine_. I’m not going to hold him down to be mutilated. The only question is if you’re with me or against me.”

They stood there, staring at each other. Rumlow blinked first. Steve hadn’t realized they were competing.

“Damn it, Cap,” Rumlow repeated.

Another staring match and Steve prompted, “Well?”

“You’re gonna be the death of us,” Rumlow muttered. “Guess there’s no point putting it off.” He wrenched the door open with unnecessary force. The still-spooked tech jumped. “Hey! You two. With us!”

They grabbed the doctor and tech and went to an administrative office with a secure phone line.

“Return the asset to stasis for now,” Pierce ordered, once the situation had been explained in as few words as possible. “This is the first major injury the asset has inflicted on a member of its teams since Captain Rogers joined us. We can afford to try things his way for a few months, Commander.”

“Yes, sir,” Rumlow said, eyebrows fleeing for his hairline as he shared a glance with Steve.

“Make sure Captain Rogers understands he will be responsible for ensuring the team’s compliance with all necessary precautions and additional maintenance of its conditioning.”

“I understand, sir. Thank you, sir,” Steve said immediately. Internally, he reeled. The part of him that could never forget his true mission wondered desperately. What was HYDRA planning that they could afford to be less concerned about the long-term consequences of the changes Steve was trying to make? A few months? Did he have an actual deadline? Why was Brock supporting him?

“Good. Hail HYDRA.”

“Hail HYDRA,” they chorused, except Steve, who opened his mouth and closed it silently with a wince. He’d practiced saying it, but he tended to choke at the last moment when he was in company.

The Secretary ended the call.

Rumlow eyed him as the tech team members left to prepare for returning the asset to cryostasis. “Happy now?”

Steve nodded, leaning into the wall. “Yeah. It’s just…” He frowned unhappily out of the office.

“I did tell you this place was more traditional than you’ve been used to,” Rumlow reminded him.

Snorting humorlessly, Steve said, “Yeah, you did. Thanks for backing me up, Brock.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet. You’re gonna be the one explaining this to the rest of our team. Come back to my place once we get the asset settled and you can start with Jack. If you survive, I’ll even feed you.”

 _Fuck_ , thought Steve, with a heartfelt mixture of relief, apprehension, and new horror.


	95. Chapter 95

The call to assemble came just as Steve was about to step onto a quinjet for a STRIKE mission. "Gotta go?" Rumlow questioned.

Steve sighed in frustration. "Yeah. Why they're bothering to call me in, can't say I rightly know, but yeah." He stepped in and crouched a little between Rumlow and the asset. He cupped the asset’s masked face in his hands and kissed it on the forehead. “Be good.” He couldn't say _be careful_ and _be safe_ in front of the whole team like this. Turning to Rumlow, he said, "Take care of the asset for me."

Rumlow nodded. "I will."

Steve hated having to leave. He hoped the team didn't decide to make up for lost time after the mission, without Steve's influence.

"You do your job and come back to us, Steve," Rumlow said, voice low, leaning in. "Don't let them get to you."

"I won’t," Steve promised darkly as he drew on every bit of hurt, resentment, and distrust to school his face.

As he disembarked, Rollins’ voice came after him. "Don't forget to change, Cap!"

Looking down at himself, Steve had to scowl. Rollins was right. He couldn't show up publicly as Captain America in his SHIELD stealth suit.

Even so, the red white and blue felt conspicuously wrong after so much time in the shadows. He was sure his discomfort showed as he hurried back to the quinjet landing bays, heading for a different one than STRIKE had already departed from. Romanoff and Barton were waiting for him. "I take it we're meeting Stark and Dr. Banner there?" Steve asked, strapping in.

"Just Stark," Romanoff corrected him. "The Hulk could do more harm than good for this one."

“Everyone good back there?” Clint called from the pilot’s seat. “I’d like to beat the storm DC’s expected to get about now.”

Steve and Natasha called back their affirmatives and the quinjet took off.

“We’ll brief once we get into international air space,” Natasha told him.

“Okay,” Steve muttered. He leaned back and closed his eyes. That meant he had a few more minutes to switch over from the HYDRA mission he’d been preparing for to being Captain America for the Avengers.

God, he hoped Bucky didn’t get hurt - during or after the mission. There was already so much Steve could never forgive himself for.

_Oh, fuck, hell, and damn._

Stark.

He hadn’t seen Howard’s son since before the day he’d been shown the Winter Soldier’s face.

Tony Stark didn’t know.

Maybe Steve could tell him? The longer Steve kept it from him, orders or no orders, the less understanding Tony Stark was likely to be. Steve would need his cooperation. He couldn’t alienate him so far.

But Tony was impulsive, particularly when he was angry. Was his possible interference a risk Steve could take?

Maybe the real Steve Rogers, the one before SHIELD and HYDRA, wouldn't have considered any of that. Maybe he would've told the truth because it was the right thing to do. Tony Stark didn't deserve to be lied to.

Steve needed to make sure that Tony knew what happened to his parents. Somehow, he also had to make sure Tony didn't simply upgrade the firepower in his suit and set off on a one-man anti-HYDRA rampage like he had against the Ten Rings.

_Worry about it later._

If he was lucky, Iron Man would stay at a distance and there wouldn’t be any reason or opportunity to speak personally. In the meantime, there were giant ice creatures terrorizing the site of the recently finished Winter Olympics. The briefing showed them to be elephant-sized with three forward-facing long horns, claws that left a crust of ice where they passed, a muscular clubbed tail, and eight eyes. Something like a cross between an anklosaurus, triceratops, armadillo, and a sheep.

They might be aliens. Steve hoped they were aliens.

Whatever they were, at least they behaved more like wild goats, according to Barton, than anything predatory.

There was a moment, after the creatures had been corralled in the ice rink with a minimum of property damage (They _were_ alien. An Asgardian woman named Sif showed up to take them away, also bringing the news that Thor wasn’t coming back any time soon) and before Iron Man flew off again, when Steve nearly broke. The words were on the tip of his tongue: _there's something I have to tell you._ He fantasized about giving a hint. He could say it was about Tony's parents and then that Steve couldn't tell him yet because of orders and that it would be no good hacking SHIELD. That would be the fastest way to ensure that Tony Stark hacked SHIELD and went through everything he could. Maybe that's what Steve should've done, instead of playing HYDRA and Fury’s game.

Steve was not that much of a selfless hero. Bucky came first. One day, he would be able to tell Tony what had really happened to his parents. Today, Steve kept his mouth shut. Another reason to hate himself. Another thing he couldn't make right.

 

The next time Steve saw the asset, it was slow to recognize him. It didn't always know him right off the bat, but there was a slowness to it that made Steve wonder just how important each mission’s worth of repetition was. Two major implications occurred to him. First, Bucky might be freed from HYDRA’s control more quickly than Steve feared once they were away from what was familiar to the Winter Soldier. Second, Steve had to spend all the time he could swing with the asset or risk losing their painstakingly strengthened bond. When Steve got out, he had to be sure the asset would go with him. He had to do better than he’d done at the Retreat.

A few months. Only a few months.

Steve was running out of time.

 

“I’m… just so sick of this,” he complained to Rumlow, two missions later.

The asset lifted its head from where it rested on Steve’s thigh and looked up at him, still flushed with smears of semen in its hair and on its cheeks.

Steve brushed its hair away from its face. “Not _this_ , Soldier,” he clarified. “You’re good. I’ll never be sick of you.” Cupping its face, he leaned down and found a clean spot on its forehead to kiss. “So fucking good, Buck.”

“Sap,” mumbled Bucky, too quietly for Rumlow to hear, even if the HYDRA Commander hadn’t been busy pretending to gag.

Steve hid his sudden grin, despite the way Bucky’s eyes lit with pleasure at the reaction, then sobered. He sagged back against the headboard, a ridiculously ornate hardwood thing completely out of place in this otherwise boring safehouse. “I mean the missions.” Bucky’s head settled back on Steve’s thigh, nuzzling a little. I know what you said about SHIELD, but are _we_ even working toward a goal?”

“ _I’m_ working toward a goal, right now,” Rumlow said, pulling the asset away by a handful of hair. “Come on, asset. Position. I’m not done with you.”

The asset went easily. Other than the way it kept its gaze on Steve, it was the picture of obedience.

“Brock,” Steve said, sitting up straighter. He had to ignore Rumlow’s leisurely fucking of the asset. There were only the three of them and this was the compromise Steve had made. The rest of the team wouldn’t touch the Winter Soldier while Steve was available to take care of it, but he had to share with Rumlow.

The hell of it was seeing how little the asset seemed to mind, especially with standing permission to use Z1 and W9 of the Barnes Protocols with Steve while they were naked and alone together. W9 was a scenario in which Bucky Barnes was a willing HYDRA convert and fucktoy because his supersoldier body needed to be put to use. Worse, Bucky continued to regularly come to the conclusion that Steve had to be another Winter Soldier playing a different role. It still messed with Steve’s head if he thought about it for any length of time.

Persisting, Steve said, “Brock. You know what I’m asking.”

“And… I can’t tell you, Steve. Said all I can.”

“So, who can tell me more?”

Rumlow stopped moving, patting the asset’s back as it bit back a weakly disappointed noise. The handlers had been passing it back and forth for almost an hour, but it hadn’t come yet. “Don’t whine,” he ordered.

It pressed its face into the mattress, which was not the position it was supposed to maintain.

“Brock,’ repeated Steve, trying to focus Rumlow’s attention on him both to get an answer and to give the asset a moment.

Rumlow studied him. “Try Pierce or Fury. It’s their brainchild.”

Steve frowned. “Fury?” Fury _wasn’t_ HYDRA. He couldn’t be.

“I told you. It’s all the same.” With an exasperated sigh, Rumlow seized the asset’s hair again to pull its head back up. “Asset. _Position_." He ground into it. "SHIELD does HYDRA’s work and HYDRA does SHIELD’s. It’s the same work, Steve.”

_But… if Fury knows about whatever HYDRA is planning, why am I even here?_

As soon as he got back to the Triskelion, Steve was damn well going to ask.


	96. Chapter 96

By the time they arrived back at the Triskelion, Steve had had time to think. During the flight back, it had occurred to him that as deep in HYDRA as he was now, it made more sense for him to go to Pierce than to Fury. He should go to the one he trusted more. That _had to_ be Pierce.

He had to make a fucking appointment, which he knew was a not-so-subtle reminder of his place in the organization and Pierce’s importance, even if the Secretary might legitimately have been busy. Whatever the case, it gave Steve more time to think over what he knew and plan his approach.

He could still go to Fury. He wasn't nearly as wary of him as he was of Pierce. Fury could find ways to make Steve's life hell, but, in many ways it already was, and Fury didn't have any influence over the Winter Soldier.

Steve really hated all the spy shit. He wasn't built for subterfuge. He could draw up a battle plan and was good at adapting on-the-fly, but trying to guess whether it would be more suspicious to take or not take action like this…

Well, Steve wasn't very patient but, despite all accusations, he did like to have some semblance of an idea of what he was getting into before charging into battle.

Would it be more suspicious not to try Fury? It hurt his head to think about this thing.

He went down to Fury's office and asked his secretary (she probably had another title, but Steve's ongoing sensitivity trainings had been mysteriously canceled after his first few weeks with STRIKE) how long it would take to get an audience.

"Oh!" She went pink and he could tell she was looking at his chest more than his own face. "I think, for you, Captain Rogers, he–"

"Captain Rogers?" called a voice from behind. "Secretary Pierce can see you now."

 _Well_ , Steve thought, _that’s not a coincidence._

 

“This is Project Insight.”

It was interesting to experience his blood both running cold and boiling with rage.

 

Once they were back in Pierce's office, Pierce said, "Have a seat, Captain." He waved an inviting hand in that direction.

"I know you have concerns.”

Steve dropped into one of Pierce's fancy chairs. "I…" He groped for something to say that wasn't a diatribe against HYDRA. _This isn't freedom, this is fear. How are you any different from the Red Skull, wanting to put a gun to everyone's heads and call it peace._ He settled on: "I don't understand the DNA part. And you know my history, sir, so I'm sure you can understand why I'm worried about that."

Pierce pursed his lips as he considered. "The helicarriers themselves are almost complete. In fact, they are operational as they are now. You have a valid concern. The moment those ships go up, there will be hacking attempts. The launch has been set for April to give us time to weed out those vulnerabilities that might otherwise lead to exploitation. DNA is slightly hyperbolic," he admitted. "It's more complicated than that. Biological data might be more accurate. The more crosschecking we can do, the fewer mistakes the targeting algorithm will make."

"That sounds like some mistakes are expected," Steve commented, frowning. That would, he supposed, be an easy way for HYDRA-specific targets to be slipped in.

Pierce shrugged, palms lifted as to say _what can you do?_ "There are bugs in every system, Captain."

"That's not going to help me sleep at night, Mr. Secretary," Steve told him candidly.

Pierce half-smiled and shook his head. "Just be glad you won't be the one to give the order. Sacrifices must be made. I know you understand that."

"Yeah," Steve nodded to concede the point. "But I don't like it."

Pierce smiled sympathetically.

"I don't like it either. But peace is a responsibility. SHIELD will never have enough operatives to conduct a precisely coordinated strike against terrorism the old-fashioned way. Project Insight represents a quantum surge in threat analysis and elimination. It's a dirty business we're in, but this needs doing if we're to make the world a better place with lasting impact."

"And HYDRA, sir?" Steve chanced.

"Nick and I made these plans together,” Pierce explained. "We have the same goal. The war on terrorism must come to a decisive end so we can focus on the safety of humanity as a whole.”

So, no grand declaration. No outright takeover.

"But how will the targets be determined, sir?" Steve knew he was pushing it, but the question was important.

Smile pained, Pierce said, "The World Security Council originally had oversight over the development of the targeting algorithm, but after the alien invasion and the nuke headed for Manhattan…" He shook his head. "I'm on the Council. I was outvoted. Not, mind you, because nuking the aliens was an inherently bad idea, but because nuking Manhattan wasn't going to be effective unless the portal was closed first." Pierce put his hands in his pockets and smiled at Steve, who did not much feel like smiling back. "It's a good thing Iron Man was there to interfere."

"Yeah," Steve agreed as steadily as he could.

"Too many civilians on the Council. Oh, I know," Pierce said, raising his hands, "I'm one of them, but I'm also US Secretary of Defense and head of US HYDRA. I'm not exactly a civilian when it comes to these matters."

"How can that many targets possibly be reviewed and approved in time that the data is still current enough for the target locations to be valid? What about kids? People pressed into service to these groups who are essentially prisoners and shouldn't be held accountable? How can we possibly have that many targets, that many legitimate targets, that this is the solution? I can understand how this could be useful given a threat like the Chitauri, but…"

The tight smile Pierce gave him was just on the right side of patronizing. "Those are all good questions, Captain Rogers. You're not the first to raise this issue. The algorithm is as accurate as we can make it.”

"How so?"

Pierce waggled a finger at him. "That, Captain Rogers, you do not need to know. All you have to do is accept my word that the director of SHIELD approves and is as aware and onboard with Project Insight as I am. When it comes down to it, though, none of that is really your concern. Director Fury, the World Security Council, and I are working to address those issues. The project won't launch until everyone involved is assured we’ve done all we can to minimize collateral damage. I assure you, no one wants unnecessary death." Pierce studied him, sharp eyes on Steve's face, searching. "It's a touchy subject, I realize, but can you really say you considered all those factors when assaulting targets in World War II?"

Steve dropped his eyes for a moment. They both knew he hadn't, especially after Bucky. "I hadn't thought of it that way, sir," he said, and it sounded like a confession because Steve did feel guilty.

The Secretary's expression softened a little. "The helicarriers won't fire indiscriminately. There will be multiple safeguards. All you have to do is go about your business. You don't have to be aboard one of the helicarriers. We won't ask you to review any target list. Your work with the STRIKE team is enough."

"What about the Avengers, sir?"

"Nick Fury is one of my best friends, Captain Rogers. Did you know I was responsible for promoting him?"

Steve shook his head. The surprise stung a little.

Pierce glanced down at his expensive watch. "The story will have to wait for another day. For now, just believe me when I say, I would not want to deprive him of his best assets. Even after we successfully eliminate terrorism, a team like the Avengers will still be necessary, however infrequently. If all goes well, the Avengers should be able to stand down until the next extraterrestrial threat. You too, if that’s something you want.”

"Thank you, sir," said Steve. He hoped he sounded more reassured than he felt.

Fuck. Now he really had to talk to Tony Stark.

Soon.


	97. Chapter 97

Natasha didn't even have a chance to greet him before Steve said, "I need you to manufacture an Avengers call. Something involving an EMP. I need to talk to Stark."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "It would be simpler for me to pass a message, if that's all you need."

"No," Steve said firmly. "It has to be face-to-face. I owe him that."

The freshly invigorated paranoia dominating his brain since Pierce showed him Project Insight tried to tell him that if Fury was in on it, there was very little chance Natasha didn't know. The idea that anyone could approve of what those helicarriers were for, much less the people he'd been thinking of as the good guys, was eating at the little trust he had in SHIELD. He listened to it for now. If it was wrong, he could apologize after Project Insight was stopped. But if it was coming from SHIELD, how could he trust SHIELD to help him? Tony Stark was involved with SHIELD, but he wasn't part of it and just as clearly didn't want to be. He was also a genius and an engineer, as well as an Avenger. Steve needed his help.

But it would be dishonest to ask for it without telling him the truth.

 

It took almost two weeks for Steve to get the call and the timing was awful.

The asset had earned its reward and Steve nearly had it there, a hand loosely around its cock while he drove into it from behind. It was making little desperate sounds around Rumlow’s cock as it pushed its hips back to meet Steve’s thrusts.

“Uh, Cap?” Agent Goble called from the door.

“ _What?_ ” Steve demanded, faltering in his rhythm as he twisted to look at her. “What couldn’t wait another couple minutes for us to be done here?”

“It’s an Avengers thing.”

“Damn it,” he muttered, frstrated and relieved, running his hands down Bucky’s sides as he pulled out. “Sorry, Soldier. Duty calls.”

Not a sound came from the Winter Soldier. It didn't even try to look at him.

He got up and did his best to ignore his uncomfortable erection. Steve was becoming an expert in ignoring discomfort.

 

"What do you know about the night your parents were killed?" Steve blurted, interrupting Tony Stark’s attempts to bring the Iron Man suit back online.

Startled, Tony stared at him for a moment before answering. "I knew they weren't going where they first told me. Mom's calendar said _Bahamas_ , but Howard's said _Pentagon_. I know the investigators said he was drinking."

Steve hesitated. Would Tony really want to tear open the old wound? He hadn't missed the way Tony spoke of his parents.

No, it was selfishness under those thoughts. It was fear that Tony would refuse to help.

"What do _you_ know," Tony demanded, voice gone hard. "Tell me."

He had to. Steve swallowed, took in a breath, and released it. "I think Howard suspected something was wrong in SHIELD. He learned something or made something, and he decided to take it to the military instead."

Tony covered his eyes with his hands and took a few controlled breaths. "Are you telling me… Rogers, are you telling me fucking _SHIELD_ had them killed?”

“No," Steve said, trying helplessly to clarify. "I'm telling you HYDRA infiltrated and corrupted SHIELD and the Soviet branch killed them for it."

Tony mouthed _HYDRA_ to himself and stared at Steve, who figured in for a penny, in for a pound and barreled on. "They used a brainwashed supersoldier to do it.”

After a moment of frozen horror, Tony said, "So help me, Rogers, if you tell me HYDRA found you first and _you killed my parents_ , I–"

Steve's eyes widened. "No!" He exclaimed, raising his hands. "No! They didn't have me. They had. They had Bucky."

"Bucky," Tony repeated dumbly. "Bucky, as in Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes? Your best friend since childhood, only Howling Commando who died during the war? That Bucky?"

The explanation, minus the details of what Steve had been involved in over the past year, was terrible. He couldn’t read Tony’s reaction beyond the hard anger shuttering the man’s expression.

”So much for wanting my repulsor engine design to build _a_ new helicarrier. I should have known better.”

"You're not surprised?" Steve questioned.

“No, I’m really not,” replied Stark, distracted by whatever he was doing with his helmet. “First rule in government spending: Why build one when you can have two at twice the price? Or three, in this case.”

Steve ignored the flicker of irritation at what he was sure was another reference he didn't have context for. He understood well enough.

”How do we disable them?”


	98. Chapter 98

"I need you to go to the Vault," Pierce told Steve when he answered his SHIELDRA-issued phone. "I'd go myself but the World Security Council requires my attention.”

The Vault meant the asset. Something the tech team and other agents present couldn't handle. He wondered where Rumlow was, but it ultimately didn't matter.

"I understand, sir. I'm on my way," Steve assured him. He grabbed the keys for his bike, threw the bag with his shield and other gear over his shoulder, and headed down the stairs.

"This is a delicate time, Captain Rogers," Pierce said. "We're putting a lot of faith in you. Solve the issue, get a mission report, and make sure it and you are prepared for tomorrow. Understood, Captain?"

"Yes, sir," said Steve. _Don’t think about the launch. Just do your job. Don’t think about it._

"Good," said Pierce and ended the call without any mention of HYDRA. He must not have been alone.

All the way to the bank, the possibilities whirled through Steve's mind.

The first gates clanged open for him. A guard who hadn't seen him there before stared at him wide-eyed.

"What the _hell_ is going on that someone thought the Secretary had to be disturbed," Steve demanded as one of the techs came toward him.

The man shifted nervously tugging at his collar. "He sent you, Captain Rogers?" He looked worried.

Steve wondered why, after all the times he'd assisted the tech team, his presence was suddenly a reason for concern. Had the asset, had Bucky, remembered something and acted out? Had the asset been injured or damaged in a way that meant it couldn't perform its part tomorrow? "Yes,” he snapped. “What’s going on?"

"The asset is erratic, unstable," the tech said hurriedly. "Unresponsive to commands, lashing out at the team during arm maintenance. We've had to send two people for medical attention."

"I thought the asset was with STRIKE today? Where's Commander Rumlow?"

“The hospital, Captain.”

”Was he injured?” Damn it, Steve was _not_ concerned, he was simply too used to playing a good friend and teammate. 

”Uh, not him, Captain.”

Well, _that_ was helpful. Steve set his jaw against the urge to sigh.

Whatever was going on, the tech team deserved whatever was coming to them simply for having left the asset unrestrained in the chair. It sat there, bare chest heaving as it stared at something no one else could see. There was blood drying on the back of its right hand where it had pulled out its IV line.

Steve took a steadying breath and stalked up to stand in front of it. "Soldier. Mission report," he said and waited. The asset continued to stare at nothing. Steve took a step closer, understanding now why the tech team had been worried enough to contact Pierce. He was sure they’d wanted Captain America as uninvolved with the Insight Launch as they could manage. "Mission report. Now, asset." Still nothing.

Fuck. The longer this went on, the worse he’d be expected to hurt it.

Reluctantly, Steve flexed his fingers and then slapped the asset across the face. It rocked with the blow, turning its head and blinking as it came back from wherever its mind had been. "Mission report, Soldier," Steve prompted it again, more gently this time.  
  
"The woman on the bridge. The redhead. Who was she?"

 _Natasha_ , Steve knew instantly. He could even answer this. "Natalia Romanova," he said. "She came out of the Black Widow program."

The asset frowned. "I knew her," it said. It looked to Steve for confirmation.

He nodded. "You've run missions both with her and opposing her. She defected."

Around them, he was aware of the techs' and guards' increasing uneasiness.

"She shot my goggles," it said, as if to itself. “She’s a threat.”

Steve sighed, hoping it looked like anything but relief. "We'll get you another pair, Soldier. You have spares, right?"

For the first time since he had entered, it focused on his face. "Yes, Captain," it said.

He could feel the anxiety level of the room drop.

"Tomorrow is going to be a big day for us," Steve said, more softly. "We both need to be ready to do our part." He hated himself so much for what he would have to do next but there wasn't any way around it. "Everything has to go right tomorrow. You can't malfunction like you did today." He cupped its cheek with one hand and pressed his thumb to its lips which parted automatically. It sucked on the tip of his thumb, eyes fixed on his. "You'll comply with the tech team, won't you, asset?"

It nodded slightly and Steve removed his hand. "Good. Everything will be just fine, you'll see," he went on, "I'm with you."

"To the end of the line," said the asset and Steve just froze while the world around him spun horrifyingly and then righted itself.

"Yeah, pal," he said and crouched to look more directly into Bucky's eyes. "To the end of the line. And if we make it there, if there's a world where we don't have to fight anymore," he promised, "you can come home with me and be Bucky to your heart's content. Do you want that, Soldier?"

Bucky nodded, equally solemn.

"Then trust me, and do as you're told," Steve said. Stalling for one more second, he kissed Bucky on the forehead.

Then he pushed him back into the maintenance chair.

The restraints closed automatically. Steve felt like his heart had to be beating loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear it. Bucky probably could. He didn't think he'd understand what it meant but that didn't matter. It couldn't matter. Not now.

"Wipe it," he ordered. The command came out with all the chill he held inside. He had to freeze his heart over or else start screaming. "The asset’s been out of cryo too long. No more mistakes." Bucky watched Steve with sad resignation but didn't struggle against the chair or try to refuse the bite guard.

 _This is the last time_ , he promised himself as he watched Bucky scream. _I don't care what the consequences are. This is the last time._  
  
When the screaming stopped, Steve ordered everyone else out of the room, bent close to the restrained Winter Soldier's ear and whispered to him, "Remember who you are, Sergeant James Buchanan Bucky Barnes."

The Winter Soldier looked up at him in pained confusion.

"Trust me, Bucky. I love you and I’m with you to the end of the line.”

”Your asset and your Bucky,” he said softly, wonderingly, like the words were part of a half-remembered dream. Frowning, he looked Steve up and down. “You are... You’re my...” Bucky closed his mouth and stared at Steve imploringly. 

“I’m your Steve,” said Steve. 

God, he hoped they were ready.  


	99. Chapter 99

Steve was in the middle of changing into his public Captain America suit when a very unhappy Brock Rumlow stomped in.

There was an instant of mutual double take.

Rumlow's double take was presumably because Steve wasn't meant to be anywhere near the Vault the night of the launch. Steve's own double take was due to Rumlow's appearance.

"The hell happened to you?" he blurted.

"What does it fuckin’ look like, Rogers?" Rumlow snapped, gesturing at his scorched hair and reddened face. The STRIKE Commander was singed, dirty, and covered with abrasions head to toe. "Got too close to a missile strike, that's what. Evidence Response is still sifting through the debris for the targets, so it might not even’ve been a successful missile strike." Wincing, Rumlow pulled a few sheets off a roll of paper towels and dabbed ineffectively at his face. "Shit," he muttered, frowning at his reflection. “Can you believe there’s no fucking burn cream in this whole place? You'd think the damn techs would keep some around, working on that arm. You think they're messing with me? I think they're messing with me."

Steve commented, "Sounds like neither of our days are going to plan."

"Those carriers better go up," Rumlow growled. "I don't know what Romanoff thinks she's doing—she fucks this up for SHIELD, even Fury's not gonna be able to protect her. What are you even doing here, Steve? Shouldn't you be at the Pentagon about now?"

There was no need for Steve to know what he was talking about. It was probably a test, and Steve wasn’t biting.

Rolling his shoulders and settling the shield on his back, Steve explained. "The Secretary called me in because the asset was acting up." He met Rumlow's sharp glance. "It's handled. Wiped and sent off to receive further orders. Secretary Pierce said he'd brief it himself."

Rumlow simply sighed.

 

A van full of agents came to collect him after his meeting at the Pentagon. Most of these agents he'd seen around, but only a few were from his own STRIKE team, including Rumlow and Rollins. They had clearly received some actual medical attention in the last hour or so.

"Come on, don't be difficult, Steve." Rumlow rolled his eyes.

Steve didn't move. "And here I thought we had gotten to know each other, Brock. I'm just going home. All things considered, I think I need to call it an early night."

"All things considered, you know why the Secretary wants you tucked away safe."

"You think I'm going to lose any sleep over ISIL after what we've seen the last couple months?"

"Of course you will. You're Captain fuckin’ America."

If he hadn’t been in the red, white, and blue a stone’s throw from the media, Steve would have rolled _his_ eyes at that point. He widened them instead. "Gee, Commander Rumlow, thanks for reminding me."

"Anytime, Captain Rogers. Now, you gonna help us follow our orders? We are on a schedule, here, you know.”

A few of the guys were sweating. One, a dark skinned man in a suit, was clutching the handle of a briefcase. Steve looked out over the crowd of journalists and hoped it wasn't obvious that he had recognized the disguised magnetic cuffs. Whatever else was going on, they were ready to take him down if they thought they had to. Steve could probably get away, but it was still too early for him to show his hand.

"Fine," he said and got in the van.

 

"Okay," Steve said evenly, trying not to be obvious sizing up the agents around him. "Someone want to tell me what this is actually about?" He turned his focus to Rumlow who glared back at him but also looked satisfyingly wary. "Rumlow?"

"Easy, Cap. We just got a couple questions for you." His grin did not reach his eyes.

"Questions?" Steve repeated. He hoped he sounded puzzled. He was about to have to tell an outright lie, and that was something he still wasn't very good at.

"Yeah," Rumlow said shortly. "The asset never showed up to get its orders. It just came out of the chair. It's acting on _somebody's_ orders and you were the last handler it saw. Nothing personal, but what are we supposed to think?"

"The asset's missing?"

The grin dropped away as Rumlow glared. "Don't bother playing dumb, Cap.”

Not for the first time since he'd gotten into the van, Steve was conscious of and grateful for the reassuring weight of the shield on his back.

Steve raised his hands in a gesture that could have been placating, but his main purpose was to get his hands closer to the edge of his shield. "Hey, we're both supposed to be partially retired after tomorrow. Why would I do anything to jeopardize my chance to take it home with me? Anyway, I thought it had trackers? The asset definitely thinks it does."

Rumlow’s glare intensified. “It does. But there are always ways around that sort of thing.”

”And you think I’d know how?” Steve aimed for disbelieving but suspected it just came out nervous.

Grimly, Rumlow said, “I don’t know what to think, Ca—“ and suddenly there was movement on all sides as the agents converged.

His first move was to kick Rumlow back with a boot to his chest, elbow another agent in the gut, and free his shield to bat away the briefcase with the cuffs.

He could defend himself without the shield, but it was good to know he didn't have to this time. There was also something to be said for using it to knock down HYDRA. It felt appropriate.


	100. Chapter 100

_“…from the nation’s capital. First was the surprise resignation of Captain Steven Grant Rogers from the United States Army, which had loaned Rogers, more widely recognized as Captain America, to a little-known organization called the Strategic Homeland...”_

Steve woke to the nearly muted mutter of a television and the worrying discovery that the asset was no longer in bed with him. 

_Bucky. I can call him Bucky again._

Bucky must have turned on the news.

_Thank God I don’t have to punish him for it._

They hadn’t had sex. Steve hadn’t raped him again. Bucky had clearly expected it, but he hadn’t objected to cuddling up and going to sleep instead. 

Steve needed to do something about that. The unquestioning compliance. He would never touch Bucky sexually again, no matter what HYDRA had conditioned into both of them.

No matter how the asset begged. Because it _would_ and Bucky deserved better from Steve.

Didn't mean Steve didn’t want him—all this time and he still couldn’t help the want—but he could control his actions and he was making that choice for them both. Someday, Bucky might recover enough to want a sexual relationship with someone, but it wouldn’t be with Steve. Not after what he’d done.

For a long selfish moment, Steve shut his prickling eyes and let his self hatred swallow him. Then, he rolled over and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He took his shield with him.

A mechanical whir led him out of the tent and over to the adjoining testing chamber, where Bucky had apparently taken Steve’s permission (order) to finish last night’s pizza in the morning and run with it. There were one and a half slices remaining, if he counted the one held in Bucky’s motionless right hand. There was wariness in the Winter Soldier’s eyes. Wariness and a hint of _you-said-I-could_ defiance. 

Smiling in helpless relief, Steve said, “Good morning, Bucky.” He took the last untouched slice and added the box to the stack of them next to the trash can. He leaned the shield against the other side.

The pizza was sausage and tomato. He'd ordered one of everything on the menu. It was cold now and didn’t taste like home or freedom, but it was tastier and healthier than the cheeseburgers Tony Stark had suggested.

Good thing Stark had set them up above his company’s DC office. The entire legal department here had worked through the night and ordered large quantities of food several times. It made the pizza delivery unremarkable. Having a stack of pizzas and a large box delivered to the testing chamber in his company office in DC wouldn't be strange for Tony Stark. He didn't work from DC often, but he had workshops everywhere he had a place to live. This one predated Iron Man. He'd occasionally used these chambers for demonstrations.

It made it easy to deliver a Faraday cage right to a place where another one had long-since been installed. Whatever trackers the two of them had, they wouldn’t be tracked here. 

Steve hadn’t had to say more than _go to this address and sit in the box. Don’t get out until a handler comes for you._  

The asset had obeyed.

”Any mention of HYDRA?” Steve asked, trying not to wolf down the pizza in case doing so gave Bucky the impression he’d done something wrong by eating the rest. He nodded at the television. It was muted completely now.

The asset— _Bucky_ , damn it—shook his head, faintly puzzled by the question. “No, Steve.” He looked relieved when Steve said nothing else.

Frowning, Steve sat down at the table and watched the news coverage. There was some truly spectacular footage of Iron Man and the Hulk trashing a handful of quinjets and collapsing the road out to the Triskelion. Some sort of large disturbance of water in the Potomac had been reported, but between the darkness and the lack of warning, the media had only caught the Avengers’ exit. 

The Insight bay doors must not have even fully opened before the helicarriers were disabled or destroyed. 

_Hope Romanoff's okay. The news will have to be enough._

From what he understood, it was amazing, and maybe typical of Tony Stark, from what he'd seen, that they could get television inside a Faraday cage. He really hoped Tony or one of the others arrived soon. Steve needed to know what had happened. Also, they had a sort of campsite in the Faraday cage, but there weren't exactly any woods to go piss in.

As if in answer to his thoughts, the door to the workshop unsealed. 

The asset dropped its half-eaten pizza crust, snapping to attention. Steve jumped to his feet, adrenaline surging. 

It wasn't Tony.

"Heya, Steve. Asset," said Rumlow. He grinned open-mouthed, bruised and bandaged, but with stun batons held ready. A full team of tac-geared agents waited behind him. "Did you save us any pizza?" The STRIKE Commander strolled in, only the way he held his weapons showing any amount of tension. The rest of the agents filed in after him and spread out around them, weapons ready. 

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting you," Steve ground out. It didn't matter what had gone wrong. Maybe HYDRA was watching all of Tony's properties. Maybe this had been a lucky guess.

"Oh, I bet. Like I said, you're not used to the modern surveillance state."

The asset was looking between the handlers slowly, as if only now understanding what Steve had done. God, he hoped it didn't side with Rumlow.

"Maybe not," he said lowly, "but it seems like I make a decent covert operative." 

Rumlow laughed at him. "Please, Rogers, you know you wouldn't have got anywhere on your own."

"Probably not," Steve admitted. He bared his teeth. "Thanks for that, Brock. I learned a lot from you."

The surrounding agents shifted.

"You're a lot like the asset, you realize that, Stevie?"

"Don't call me that," Steve said evenly. "That name's not for you."

Ignoring him, Rumlow continued, "Easily trained. Desperate for a scrap of affection or companionship. So willing to do whatever you're told is necessary. If we could have put you in the chair under Fury's nose, you would have been perfect. You still could be. Last chance. Come back in now and things will go a hell of a lot easier for you both."

"Is that why it's okay for you to lust after me, Brock?" Steve deflected. _Don't think about it. You did what you had to._ "Because I'm a supersoldier, I don't count as a man? I never did buy into the idea you just wanted to help me out."

Rumlow scoffed. "Well, I mean, who wouldn't want a shot at the pinnacle of human perfection? No, I mean _this_." With that, he lunged.

Steve caught the first baton on his arm, lightning lancing through him until he grabbed up his shield and knocked Rumlow away with enough force to send him through the tent to tumble over the far side of the bed. The rest of the agents went down just as easy. 

No part of Bucky moved except for his eyes flicking between Steve and where Rumlow was picking himself up.

Not taking his focus from Steve, Rumlow waved a baton to indicate all the downed agents. "All that raw potential. You can't help being what you are. All we had to do was get you to comply, and maybe it took you a bit with all your fucking stubbornness, but you buckled every time with the right promises of pain and reward."

"I've always been willing to destroy myself to destroy HYDRA." They circled each other cautiously.

The grin on Rumlow's face widened. "Yeah, they did a great job on you. What d'you want to bet you give it up easier the next time we wake you?" The expression turned mocking. " _Captain?_ "

Steve narrowed his eyes. _It's not true. I'm not a Winter Soldier. I never was._ "Gotta say," he said, trying to maneuver his opponent away from the door and waiting for a misstep, "Bucky was a hell of a lot more convincing. Was that _your_ idea?"

With a nasty laugh, Rumlow responded, "I think the thought just came naturally. Why wouldn't it?"

"Because it's not true," Steve said flatly and tossed his shield at the HYDRA Commander.

Rumlow tried to deflect with his batons, but there was too much force behind Steve's blows. He went down and stayed down.

Breathing a little more heavily than strictly necessary, Steve turned to the Winter Soldier. Calculating blue eyes stared back, then fell submissively. "Bucky?"

"Yes, Steve." Bucky's shoulders slumped slightly. "I'm yours. Ready to comply."

They were free, but Steve's revelation from the Retreat, that Bucky was the asset as much as the asset was Bucky, had never felt so heavy.


	101. Chapter 101

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 100 chapters and on to the aftermath!
> 
> Thank you for over 250 subscriptions, almost 700 kudos, and over 17k hits! I never imagined I would get this level of interest when I started posting on AO3.

“Steve?” Bucky asked tentatively.

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve looked up from securing the last unconscious HYDRA agent.

The asset _Bucky! He’s Bucky!_ was chewing his lip, eyes darting. “What scenario is this? I… I don’t remember.”

Straightening slowly, Steve eyed him critically. He remembered the calculation he’d seen on Bucky’s face after Rumlow went down. Was the Winter Soldier playing along until he could get away and return to HYDRA? Was it just erratic and unstable because of too long out of cryo? He had seen, no he had ordered it _he’s_ Bucky _, damn it, what is wrong with me_ wiped less than a day ago. Seeing Nat couldn’t have shaken him that much. Natasha had never even hinted that they had that level of connection.

Shit, he owed her so many apologies for not trusting her with Project Insight immediately. If he’d let her talk to Tony… No, he had done the right thing by telling Tony about his parents in person before asking for help. He still owed Natasha an apology, no matter what she hadn’t told him.

The asset was still waiting for an answer. Bucky was still waiting for an answer.

“This isn’t a scenario, Bucky. This is real,” he said as gently but firmly as he could. “I promised you could come home with me and be Bucky as much as you want. You can be any Bucky you want, whatever version makes you happy will make me happy too. It’s okay if you don’t know who you want to be yet. We have time. Real time. I know you’ll figure it out.”

God, he hoped that wasn’t too much too soon.

Bucky just stared at him. “I understand. What scenario do I follow when others are present?”

So much for that. Either he’d taken it as an update to his standing orders for when he was alone with Steve or his understanding of coming home with Steve didn’t include this stage of their escape.

Shit. He hadn’t wanted to give these orders. “You will follow my lead with new people. Be appropriate and consistent with people you already know. None of them will be handlers. Your discretion supersedes any direction they may give you regarding your identity. The Avengers, you’ve been briefed on the Avengers…”

A nod.

“The Avengers have the following information: You were born James Buchanan Barnes March 10th, 1917. We were best friends. Standard history up to the fall from the train. You survived the fall, but lost your memory and your left arm. The Russians found you, replaced your arm, and trained you to be the Winter Soldier. They had a relationship with HYDRA which resulted in your transfer to the US in the early 90s. I…” He swallowed hard before continuing. If Bucky challenged anything, it would be this part. “I infiltrated HYDRA after the Battle of New York, convinced you of your identity, and escaped with you during the chaos of the Insight Launch. You have been a prisoner of war for seven decades. You don’t want to fight anymore. You just want to go home and figure out what to do with your freedom.”

He had to endure Bucky’s burning stare for a few more minutes before the other supersoldier finally said, “Okay, Steve.”

“Good,” Steve said automatically and wanted to slap himself.

 

 

Maria Hill showed up with Tony Stark to take charge of the HYDRA goons, Rumlow included. He wasn’t dead, but, even if he woke up, he wouldn’t be conscious and mouthing off about HYDRA anytime soon. Steve had hit him harder than he had probably needed, but less than he had wanted to. Maybe he should have killed him, but…

He really needed to talk to Nat.

Tony packed them up in another box and had them flown to Stark Tower in New York.

“Why make things easier for them? JARVIS should have Cap and Bucky sightings in a dozen places across the planet by now.”

When the box was unloaded and had stopped moving, Steve pushed Bucky behind him and waited for the top to open, but it was only Stark. Still in the armor, but with his face plate retracted, Tony eyed them, face unreadable as he looked Bucky over. “You cool there, Terminator?”

Pale blue eyes met Steve’s. Steve nodded wary encouragement.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve wasn’t sure if he should jump for joy or wilt in disappointment.

He climbed out of the box instead. Trackers first. Once they were physically safe, he could worry more about where Bucky’s head was.

 

 

“ _Bucky_. No. We’re not having sex.” Steve tried to sound calm and firm, but it was hard to do that when he’d just jumped out of bed like a scalded cat. “Put some clothes on. Boxers, at least.”

Bucky’s face crumpled. He slid off the other side of the bed. “I don’t understand. Please?”

“No. It’s not right. I never had the right. You’re… look, you’d do anything I told you to, right?”

The asset, his poor confused Bucky, nodded. “Yes, Steve.”

“And you know I love you? I don’t care if you’re Bucky or the Winter Soldier? I love whoever you are and whoever you want to be?”

“Yes, Steve.”

“And you want to please me?”

“ _Yes_ , Steve.”

Did he imagine the faint exasperation?

“We can’t have sex because you’re trying to please me. I won’t take advantage of you again. That’s wrong.”

Face scrunched, Bucky argued, “You promised I could be Bucky. You said I could decide who Bucky is. Why can’t I decide to be a Bucky who is yours?”

“Because…” Fuck. Steve was making a hash of this. Why had _Natasha_ been the one who ended up in front of Congress? “You’re not ready to know if that’s what you really want or if that’s just what you were trained to do as the asset.”

“You said you love me as the Winter Soldier. Did you lie?”

“No!”

“Then I don’t understand. If I’m not for my primary function, I-”

“I’m afraid of hurting you again. I’m sorry things are this way, but if you want to sleep in the same bed with me, _go put on a pair of boxers_. I showed you where they are earlier.”

Not even trying to conceal his unhappiness, Bucky complied.

Steve lay awake for over an hour, afraid one of them would close the cold gap between their bodies the moment he lost his conscious control.

In the morning, he woke, hard against the curve of Bucky’s ass with an arm around his side. Wide awake with panic, he made himself breathe evenly as he pulled away and fled to the relative safety of a cold shower in a locked bathroom.

_Never again_ , he promised himself. They both slept better when they shared a bed, but Steve would stay on his side in a damn sleeping bag zipped up to the neck if it meant Bucky was safe. _Never again._


	102. Chapter 102

The deprogrammer Natasha had sent to the Tower tapped his pen against a pad of paper. “Can you tell me in your own words why you made this appointment?”

Intensely uncomfortable, Steve said, “I didn’t. Natasha made it for me.”

“Hmm,” he said. When Steve didn’t say anything more, he asked, “So why am I here?”

Steve grit his teeth. “I thought she told you.“

“It’s important that you articulate it.”

Swallowing, Steve tried to put his thoughts in order. They kept being scattered by the wild anxiety of having Bucky out of sight. “I’ve been undercover with HYDRA for the last several months. I’ve been working to infiltrate them since shortly after the Chitauri invasion.”

”And? Why are we here today, Steve?”

“Can’t I just talk to Natasha about this stuff instead?” How could he ever tell this complete stranger what he’d done?

“I’m not here to judge you. This isn’t a debriefing. I’m here to help you.”

Yeah, right. Easy to say when he didn’t know what there was to judge Steve for.

This wasn't going to work out. He'd promised Natasha he would give it a try, but it was too much like talking to the doctor who came to the Retreat. Natasha must have known he wouldn't be comfortable with this. Maybe it was some kind of test?

 

The first week went from painful and awkward to hellish. Both supersoldiers were anxious and paranoid. Steve’s time as the asset’s handler gave him some experience with the traps in the Barnes protocols, but it was easy to spiral into panic over the uncertainty of Bucky’s beliefs.

 _The asset’s stable duration out of stasis isn’t ten days_ , Rumlow had said.

Steve had seen that for himself. At least he could avoid most of the violence he had accidentally triggered at the Retreat, but there was no avoiding the confusion, agitation, and mood swings. Bucky was on a hair trigger and definitely wasn’t hiding the sexual interest he was trying to present, but he wasn’t aggressive even when clingy. He offered himself. He didn’t try to initiate touch without permission. Steve hated that he couldn’t trust his own judgment as to what was conditioning and what was true.

And that was before Natasha arrived from DC to remind him that truth was _not all things to all people all the time_. Followed by Barton who showed up later in the week to help himself to breakfast and deliver a horrifyingly insightful yet excruciatingly awkward speech about how long-term survival in the power of psychopaths meant subscribing to whatever reality those with the power were selling. 

The main reason Steve didn’t tell him to stop talking was that Bucky had nearly beaten his face in again that morning (thankfully only the third time Bucky had actually injured him so far), and he didn’t want to aggravate anything. Well, that and his current desperation for a distraction. 

Bucky wasn’t with him because Bucky was down in Bruce’s lab, sedated with one of the formulas Steve had stolen from HYDRA, while Bruce and Tony consulted an actual medical doctor about removing the few trackers Tony had been able to deactivate but not remove the night they had arrived.

He had half-expected to need to convince Bucky to let them sedate him, but Bucky had simply complied without argument, clinging to Steve's hand as he turned his head from the needle and closed his eyes. Bruce and Tony weren't the tech team, but Steve was sure the compliance had very little to do with having hurt Steve. Not long after that, Tony had told him to get out before his hand-wringing provoked a Code Green. Steve wasn’t much good at cooking anything that didn’t need boiling, but he could operate a toaster and scramble some eggs. He had started making food in supersoldier quantities to distract himself and ended up making breakfast for everyone after the assassins turned up.

"The Soldier was in for, what, all the way since '44, '45?"

"'52," contributed Natasha through a bite of toast. She was paging through a file in Russian that Steve hadn't been allowed to look at yet. "They really started working on him in '52. Cryo before then."

A year ago, Steve might have shuddered. Now, all he did was push his own plate away. "Buh ee dosn wi me," he protested. 

"Promising sign," Natasha said, but she didn't sound happy about it. "But right now, that means no one is in full control of him and his sense of reality is breaking down."

Clint nodded. 

"Expect things to get worse before they get better."

"Way worse," Clint confirmed.

 _Wonderful._ Steve resisted the urge to put his head in his hands only because Bucky had fractured his cheekbone that morning. 

"By the way," said Natasha, tapping the edge of the file against the table to straighten the papers before setting it down.

Steve made an affirmative grunt. Maybe she would tell him something he could really use to help Bucky, but he didn't really expect much.

"Have you eaten anything today?" She cast a concerned look at his untouched eggs.

He could feel his face twist, but he shook his head.

"Nothing?"

He shook his head again. 

She sighed and tossed him a silver-packed block. "Remember what Bruce said?"

Steve sighed and opened the package. _Three quarters every other day this week, half next week, and a quarter the week after_ , he remembered, making a face at the cloudy yellowish block. Apparently, all of the full-time food department had been HYDRA. Certain agents, Steve included, had been chemically manipulated as a matter of routine. The effect was that they grew antsier and antsier the longer they were away from work. It reinforced dependence and decreased the chance of forming stable relationships outside of the HYDRA coworkers. Of course, Steve's general level of anxiety had been high enough his pre-serum self would have dropped dead from stress a dozen times over.  It was hard to tell how much effect the drugs had had on Steve, but Bucky needed to be weaned off them too, at much higher dosage, so they might as well both do it the easy way. Added to that, Bucky had been sharing his higher dosage drugs with Steve almost anytime they shared food on missions.

"That stuff is so weird," Clint said, watching Steve swallow chunks of drugged oily calorie bar. "It looks like something people put out for birds in the winter. Suet? Just without any seeds."

 _It would be better with seeds._ "Don thin they designed for taste," Steve mumbled. It hurt to talk, but it hadn't been his jaw and it was probably only a hairline fracture by now.

"Oh, they probably did," Natasha corrected, "just not to be tasty."

Glancing at the clock on the microwave, Steve moved to get up.

"Stay in that chair, Steve. You have fifteen more minutes," Natasha said without looking. "You won't do anyone any favors showing up like that."

The drugs were already kicking in, fast like he remembered from the first time he'd had any on an empty stomach at the Lockbox. Without consciously deciding to obey, he dropped back into his chair and slumped back. There was an enormous bowl of scrambled eggs in front of him. As much as he wanted to get the taste out of his mouth, he didn't think he could stomach anything immediately after choking down the drugged rations.

"I just..." He stared at the ceiling and tried to speak without moving his face too much. "I wish he'd stop offering himself up. Sexually, I mean," he clarified with a wince that had nothing to do with his physical pain.

"Is it better or worse because you wish you could take him up on it?" Clint asked shrewdly.

"Way worse," Steve said, absolutely certain.  _Maybe I can fire the deprogrammer and just talk to Clint?_

 

 Neither supersoldier slept well or deeply, even though they slept better together. On the eleventh night since leaving HYDRA, Steve woke to Bucky gasping his name. His body was tense like he was struggling not to move and he was breathing heavily. 

"Steve... Please... Don't... Steve. I. _Steve_..."

 Steve sat up. There were limited phrases he could safely use to reassure him without being attacked. Not that he didn't deserve anything that happened as a result of waking Bucky from a nightmare about _him_.

"Bucky. Wake up. You're dreaming, Buck. Open your eyes. Bucky, c'mon, pal. Wake up." 

“Steve,” Bucky gasped, lurching upright as he opened his eyes. His eyes landed on Steve's face and he collapsed toward him and... tried to _kiss him_?

 _Shit. Not that kind of nightmare._ "Buck, no." Steve leaned away until he almost fell out of bed. "You were dreaming. We're not..."

Bucky curled back in on himself, eyes down but a scowl on his face. "We could be. Don't tell me we're not on _my_ account, Steve. I don't remember much, but I know I'm yours. You say you're mine. Why isn't that enough? You fucked me before. Wasn't it good?"

"I... Give it time, Buck," Steve said weakly. "You never chose to be with me as anything but a friend. One of these days, you'll remember that. I won't take advantage of you like this."

"Just a kiss? Please?" 

Steve hesitated. He hated saying no to Bucky and a kiss wasn't so bad, right?

No. He couldn't start down that path.

"Try to go back to sleep, Bucky," he said (ordered) and turned over on his side, facing away.

After a time, Bucky did.


	103. Chapter 103

Steve shouldn't have been surprised by Bucky's capacity to argue now. He remembered what the asset was like with even a little freedom to speak up. Most of their arguments had been about Steve's unwillingness to have sex, so he shouldn't have been surprised by the topic either. 

Historians thought _Steve_ was the stubborn one. He was, but there was a reason he and Bucky had been such fast friends. Bucky had always given as good as he got and often better. 

"I was no different from Rumlow, even if I tried not to hurt you physically. What we did to you was abuse," Steve insisted.

“It _is_ different. You’re sorry.”

“Lots of abusers say they’re sorry. Doesn’t mean they won’t do it again.”

“You really think you could?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I did it. I’m capable.”

Bucky started to scoff, but then the stubborn glint in his eyes was replaced by desperation. “But… it was different with you. You told me you wanted me. You told me you love me.”

“Bucky, I raped you.”

“So you lied? You never wanted me? I remember wanting you. Pleasing you is the best part of being your asset.”

The present tense made Steve wince. Bucky hadn't chosen a scenario in which he didn't think of himself as the asset. He rolled away, unable to answer to Bucky's face.

“I've always wanted you. It felt good to be with you like that, but it was wrong of me. Doesn't give me any right to take advantage of you like I did. Bucky. I raped you. I abused you. I’m never touching you again.”

 A huff of warm breath against his shoulder told Steve what Bucky thought of that claim. He shifted away from his bedmate.

“Steve," Bucky said, "Even if you did hurt me, it's not like either of us had a choice. I drugged you to get you through your initiation." 

"I know," Steve told him. The asset had removed its mask to get a lungful of the purple gas too. What Bucky _thought_ he wanted wasn't in question. He couldn't give informed consent. He remembered some missions with Steve and some things from their childhood, but he still saw the latter as proof that he and Steve had been created by the same program. As Clint and Natasha had warned him, Bucky clung to what he had been taught to believe and rationalized any proof to the contrary until it somehow supported HYDRA's lies.

"Supersoldiers who don't comply get sent back to Siberia."

Knowing why it was happening didn't make it any easier for Steve to hear.

"We're safe now. That's never going to happen to either of us," Steve said firmly. _I'm not a Winter Soldier. Bucky's just generalizing because he_ is _a Winter Soldier and that's how he understands the world._

 

The second time both Natasha and Clint sat with him for a meeting with the deprogrammer, Steve had voiced conviction that he ought to be on trial with the rest of the surviving STRIKE agents. He didn't deserve to be, well, whatever an Avenger was, because he wasn't a civilian and he wasn't military now. For a moment, he had sincerely believed that Natasha might be about to hit him. He would have taken that without protest, but the look on her face when he flinched was…

The deprogrammer simply made a note. When Steve's attention snapped to him, he'd only raised one hand and said to ignore him. Natasha and Clint were perfectly capable and he was only there for backup and because he was licensed to provide documentation that Steve was receiving treatment. He couldn't help an unwilling patient. He hadn't even given Steve a name, so Steve could rage against the process all he wanted without feeling bad about his behavior toward a person.

 _Good_. Steve's thought was strangely vicious in its vehemence.

Natasha's mouth had twitched at the explanation. Steve was too sick and tired to think about the mindgames they were trying to use to engage him.

Later, Natasha cornered him in the elevator.

"Steve," she said, studying his face intently. "What was that?"

Steve could only shake his head.

"Did they…" Her expression was carefully neutral. "Did they do something to you that I don't know about?"

 _Something you didn't tell me about_ , Steve interpreted and his back went up whether he meant it to or not. "I reported everything relevant," he said. Bucky had been the one abused, by Steve as well as HYDRA, so Steve had no right to be reacting this way.

A terrible thought crossed his mind. What if Rumlow was right and supersoldiers did need order? He felt more lost now than he had with HYDRA. He had been anxious, sad, and angry, and the guilt and horror never faded, but he hadn't been afraid of other people like this until after their escape.

There had been some bad moments with HYDRA when Steve had honestly started to wonder about himself, but HYDRA had been full of lies. Steve knew that. Why couldn't he get it out of his head now?

Natasha was terrifying, but that wasn't because she'd been Steve's SHIELD handler. He'd been a good asset for them and done what he was supposed to. HYDRA was crippled because of what Steve had learned undercover and Natasha had never hurt him. Handler/asset relationships weren't supposed to be like what happened in the Winter Soldier Program, Steve knew that too. He had no reason to fear Natasha. The hell was wrong with him?

It was much much worse to be in Bucky's position. There was no question and no comparison. All the same, he wished he had someone he would trust without question.

Whatever was showing on his face, he could see Natasha's expression turning sympathetic.

"Steve," she began.

Steve interrupted, blurting, "Natasha, I'm really me, right? I mean, really me, not the way Bucky is Bucky."

She looked him over with what appeared to be real concern. "That's still bothering you?"

That hadn't been the response Steve was hoping for.

"Your floor, Agent Romanoff," Tony's AI announced and Steve abruptly froze. Forgetting about JARVIS and the knowledge that the tower was under constant surveillance did nothing to ease his paranoia. He and Bucky had almost never not been under surveillance and sooner or later that fact would come back to bite him. So far, no evidence of Steve's time with HYDRA had leaked to the public, but it was only a matter of time.

Steve deserved for the truth to come out.

Unfortunately, Steve wouldn’t be the only one affected if it did.

Natasha didn’t get out of the elevator. 

“You’re you, Steve. I swear to you. Phil Coulson watched you be defrosted. You’re the same man we found in the ice.”

Letting out the shaky breath he'd been holding, Steve nodded and tried to make his shoulders relax. It didn't work very well. The muscles were so tight they hurt. “Thanks, Natasha.”

She drew him into a quick hug, but was out of the elevator and gone before Steve lost any more composure. He wished he felt comforted.

SHIELD hadn't found Steve, was the problem. The man in the ice who now identified himself as Steve Rogers could have been replaced long before SHIELD took custody of his frozen body. Besides, SHIELD was compromised by HYDRA at all levels. 

_Why am I even thinking about this again?_

His throat felt thick. He swallowed. 

It didn’t matter who he was. He’d been one of Bucky’s abusers. There could never be any excuse or absolution.

 

Bucky had his own appointments. Steve wasn't allowed to attend most of them in case he influenced Bucky. He didn't know what Bucky said or did in them either. Captain America couldn't take on any missions until Steve Rogers got his head on straight. 

_At this rate, I might as well retire for real._

Imagining that future was painful. He imagined living in the fancy prison of Avengers Tower, trying to share a bed with Bucky as platonically as possible, until the night Bucky finally understood Steve's betrayal and killed him.

That wasn't what Bucky deserved. Steve resigned himself to at least going through the motions.

 

"Please don't ask tonight," Steve mumbled, falling face-first into their bed with a heavy sigh. Silence answered him and he immediately felt bad for the order. He rolled over and rubbed hard at his face with both hands. "Shit, Buck. I'm sorry I'm such a mess. I'm not mad at you. Just... anything but sex."

More silence. 

Concerned, Steve lowered his hands and looked for Bucky.

Bucky was standing next to the bed, studying the carpet. 

"Bucky?"

"You used to enjoy cuddling with me." 

The words were completely flat with no chance of being mistaken for a question. 

God, cuddling sounded nice. He missed that. Cuddling wasn't like kissing. It didn't have to imply anything else was on the table. Steve didn't deserve the comfort of Bucky's body close to his, but Bucky did. They usually ended up in a more intimate position by morning anyway. The last thing Steve wanted to do was deprive Bucky of touch. The asset had always been starving for it. Was it weak of Steve to give in?

"I still like that," Steve said. "But only that, got it?" He waited for Bucky's nod of confirmation. "C'mere, Buck."

He was entirely too pliant in Steve's arms, but he seemed content enough. 

Each time Steve bit back the urge to praise the asset, the scream built silently in his head until he realized he was crying.

"Stevie?" Bucky sat up and put his arms around Steve instead.

Steve cried harder, curling into Bucky's broad chest and hating himself for accepting the undeserved comfort. "I'm so sorry, Buck. I wish..." But wishing had never gotten anyone anywhere by itself. "I love you. I don't deserve you, but I love you. I'm so fucking sorry." A fresh wave of sobs shook him apart in Bucky's embrace. "I don't expect you to ever forgive me, but I'm so glad you're still here with me." 

"Yeah, punk," Bucky mumbled against his hair, stroking his side, "'m sorry too."

 

When Steve woke up, Bucky wasn't in bed with him.

 


	104. Chapter 104

Bucky wasn’t in the bathroom. He wasn’t in the bedroom closet. He wasn’t outside the bedroom door. He wasn’t in the kitchen. He wasn’t in the untouched second bedroom. He wasn’t on the couch, in any of the closets, behind a curtain, or wedged into the pantry. He wasn’t in a corner of the ceiling. He wasn’t soundlessly following in Steve’s blind spot.

JARVIS didn’t respond when Steve asked for Bucky’s location.

Steve scrambled for the elevator, uncaring of the fact he was only wearing the boxers he’d slept in.

“Good morning, Captain Rogers,” said JARVIS.

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve demanded.

“Sergeant Barnes is asleep in your bedroom,” the AI told him.

Steve spun and almost dented the closing door in his haste to get out. Maybe he somehow hadn’t seen Bucky under the covers?

But, no. Bucky wasn’t in their suite.

He wasn’t in the building.

 

Working together, it took Tony and JARVIS less than a minute to determine how Bucky had fooled JARVIS.

Much less.

In the time it took Steve to throw on a shirt and pants, they had moved on to watching the footage of Bucky strolling out the side door from the ground floor coffee shop. It was a 24-hour café, not meant to provide three AM public access to the tower’s lobby, but not designed to prevent traffic _from_ the tower. There was only one employee in the coffee shop at that time. He turned away to operate the blender and Bucky walked right past him and out. The few customers were focused on their phones. Not one looked up to see the Winter Soldier’s exit.

At least Bucky was wearing clothes. He had a pair of black sweatpants and a black t-shirt with STARK INDUSTRIES written across the back in bright blue. Black or dark gray socks.

He wasn’t wearing shoes. His combat boots were in an evidence bag and Steve had let himself be convinced Bucky didn’t need shoes yet because they couldn’t leave the tower.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Bucky had been in bed with him at least part of the night. He couldn’t have gone far.

No, Steve couldn’t lie to himself. The Winter Soldier was eminently capable of traversing huge distances without detection.

Bucky was gone.

 

“You lost the asset?” Rumlow laughed, breaking off into a wheezing cough as the movement jostled his injuries. “Really? What did you do? Try to make it be a person all the time? I thought you said you _learned_ from me.”

Steve glowered. Seeing Rumlow had been a mistake. “All I want to learn from you is where he might go. The only reason you haven’t been interrogated yet is that I knocked you into next week. A little cooperation could go a long way at this stage.”

Determining who should have jurisdiction over the HYDRA agents was an ongoing effort. In the meantime, no one wanted to take responsibility for offering any deals, so Steve had been told to avoid making any promises.

The grin Rumlow was wearing had to be painful. “Oh, Stevie. You try so hard. It’s not your fault you’re not made for interrogation.”

Steve walked to the cell door and knocked to be let out.

“Let me guess, you did exactly what I said you’d do and tried to take it all back. Apologies and denial. When’d you last let it please you? You think it thinks you don’t want it?”

 _Shut up._ He wouldn’t give Rumlow the satisfaction.

“How long until it goes looking for something familiar to give it order again, huh, Captain?” Rumlow taunted.

The door opened.

“Goodbye, Brock,” Steve said.

Bucky wouldn’t.

_The asset would._

_Don’t think about it._

 

“There’s no evidence he didn’t leave on his own,” Natasha told him.

Steve snarled wordlessly and stalked away. Why had Bucky left? What had Steve done? Or, what had Steve done to prompt this extreme response? Had Bucky been planning to escape from the start?

They’d had one more sighting - at the Smithsonian Captain America exhibit - and the Winter Soldier’s trail went cold. Natasha and Clint were certain the sighting had been planned but refused to speculate on what that meant.

The Avengers’ current mandate was to destroy HYDRA. A familiar weight of numbness, grief, guilt, and rage propelled Steve forward again. He didn’t have time to sit around talking about it. Captain America was needed to do what supersoldiers did best.

Destroy.

 

The Avengers eyed him with open worry. Steve knew he was acting reckless, irrational, and dangerous. He couldn’t care. Not when Bucky was out there without him in uncertain physical and mental condition.

A month into Steve’s bloody vengeance, they were running out of active locations and Steve’s teammates unanimously agreed to make him take a night off. He was lying on a bed in a hotel in Naples, reading the updates Tony had promised while he tried to construct an argument that would let him continue their campaign against HYDRA, when the phone in his hand rang.

“Rog-”

He was cut off. JARVIS said, “Captain Rogers, I am forwarding a call from an unidentified source. The caller claims to be the Winter-”

“Bucky?” Steve sat up, blood racing.

“-Soldier. He insists he will hang up and not call back if you say more than ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Do you-”

“Yes, I accept his terms!”

There was a pause before the line began to crackle with noise. Steve pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep himself from speaking. He wanted to call Bucky’s name, but he couldn’t fuck this up.

A sound that might have been a deep inhalation rose out of the background noise.

Then: “Steve?”

Bucky. It _was_ Bucky.

“Yes,” Steve said at once. He waited, hardly daring to breathe.

From the other end, all he could hear was breathing. “Steve.  _Please_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve said again, not even caring what Bucky wanted his yes for.

The call ended.


	105. Chapter 105

JARVIS reluctantly agreed not to volunteer information about the call. His teammates were shocked by his willingness to take a longer break. For a week, Steve waited in the hotel in Naples. He knew, logically, that staying put wouldn’t actually make it any easier for Bucky to contact him again, but he was loathe to leave the last place he had heard Bucky’s voice. He didn’t know what he had agreed to. In hindsight, he had done an extremely foolish thing. What if Bucky had walked through the door and expected sex? Steve couldn’t take the risk of refusing him anything. Days later, he hadn’t shown up anywhere. Maybe Bucky wanted him to wait where he was? He didn’t need Natasha to tell him how compromised he was. Now that he wasn’t with HYDRA, he felt more compromised than before.

He lay on his bed with his phone charging and stared at the screen. Steve’s phone rarely left his hand. Tony and Natasha teased him about finally acting like a millennial. Steve had said he would take one week total. If he didn’t hear anything more, he would have to start moving again.

The time on his phone ticked over. No Bucky.

“Dammit,” Steve muttered, set his phone on the nightstand, and covered his face with his hands. “Fuck!”

The phone rang.

Steve nearly broke it in his haste to answer. In case it was Bucky, he bit back his habitual greeting and said, “Yes?”

“Someone just torched an allegedly abandoned senior center in Arkansas,” said Natasha.

He took a deep breath and tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “HYDRA?”

“Yes. And-”

Steve’s phone began to flash. “Give me a moment, Natasha. I’m getting another call.” He switched. “Yes?”

“Captain Rogers,” JARVIS said, “You have a call waiting from Sergeant Barnes. He has conveyed the same conditions as last time. Shall I connect you?”

“Yes!” Steve said hastily.

White noise nearly drowned out Bucky’s hesitant voice. “Steve?”

“Yes,” Steve confirmed. _Buck, was that you? Are you hurt? Did you set the fire? Talk to me, say anything, please._ All he could do was say yes or no.

“Mission complete,” Bucky offered, almost making it a question.

 _Report? Fuck, I can’t say that._ “Yes?” he tried.

It was enough. It _had_ been Bucky in Arkansas. Steve listened to his concise report for a mission no handler had ordered. Report complete, Bucky asked, “Steve, does it please you? May I?”

May he what? “Yes?” Steve said cautiously.

Bucky exhaled raggedly. “Thank you.”

Steve sat on the hotel bed with his phone pressed to his ear and couldn’t say a word. All he could hear was Bucky’s increasingly labored breathing. Was he injured? It couldn’t have been long since his attack. The time difference between Arkansas and Italy was what, seven hours? He was fairly sure Arkansas was on Eastern Time the same as New York. The middle of the day for Steve was early morning for Bucky. Was it light out yet where Bucky was? Could he see daylight? Was this his first independent strike against HYDRA? Why had he decided to call? What did he need from Steve? How could Steve convince him to come back? What was wrong with his breathing?

Bucky gasped, breath hitching.

_Wait, what?_

A desperate whimper hit Steve’s ear. Bucky’s breathing was forceful and rapid and oh, fuck, he _knew_ those sounds.

There was no way Bucky had called him for… But it made sense. This was what happened after successful missions. How Bucky was getting around the requirement of direct orders, Steve didn’t know, but it was clear he still needed Steve’s orders in some form.

“Steve, please?” Bucky begged. There was no other word for it. “Please?”

“Yes,” Steve said instantly, straining his ears.

There was nothing to hear. The call had ended.

Natasha’s voice startled him. “Steve?”

He shook himself a little. “Yeah, ah, sorry ‘bout that.” Face and neck hot, he coughed, awkward. “Forgot you were still on the line.”

“Uh huh,” she said. “What’s going on with you? Who were you talking to?”

“Bucky,” he confessed. Natasha raised an eyebrow, and Steve slumped in relief when she didn’t immediately demand details. “But he didn’t give me much chance to talk.”

“You were gone almost twenty minutes.”

 _Oh, God._ “He, ah, had a mission report to deliver.” If it had been anyone but Natasha, he wouldn’t have continued. Since it was, it was much easier to tell her now and not worry about being interrogated ater. “And then I think he asked for permission to jerk off.”

“Which you gave,” she stated.

“Which I gave,” Steve confirmed, trying not to think about it.

There was a long pause.

“Interesting.” Natasha gave nothing away. “We’re regrouping at the Tower. Do you plan to join us?”

Steve hesitated. It made no difference where he was as long as he could connect. “He won’t have stuck around.”

“We’ll pick you up in half an hour. Debrief en route.”

Steve left out everything after Bucky’s mission report.

 

A pattern became established. Bucky would call. Steve would say yes. Within a few days, Bucky would hit a HYDRA-related target, be it a single operative or a whole installation. He would call and report to Steve, then ask permission for… something else.

Steve always said yes. He knew it was dangerous to essentially be giving the Winter Soldier carte blanche, but he was terrified of the potential consequences if he said anything else. Bucky had killed several high-level agents, even a few in protective custody. One of them hadn’t been linked to HYDRA directly until after his murder. Fury tried to give Steve hell for that, but Steve had quit, damn it. He didn’t trust Fury, who had never given him a clear answer regarding his knowledge about Insight. Fury and Pierce had been friends for a reason. Their methods were far too similar. He was going back to his previous plan to see every member of HYDRA dead or imprisoned. Protective custody anywhere but in a concrete cell was not acceptable.

By the end of Bucky’s fourth mission report, Steve was such an anxious mess, he actually agreed to talk with Natasha while the deprogrammer watched from another room. At first, he tried to leave out the sexual aspect, but Natasha was relentless. Steve broke like a rotten plank, splinters of dark filth and little things that slithered, writhed, oozed, and bit scattered all over.

“Don’t tell me it’s okay, Natasha!” he snarled, half-rising from his chair. “It’s not and I hate myself for wanting it to be!”

“Hey,” she said quietly, so quietly he had to stop raging to hear her. “Come here, Steve.”

Exhausted, he shuffled over to stand in front of her. She offered a hand, palm up, and he pulled her to her feet without looking at her. He couldn’t say anything and he refused to cry in front of the stranger.

“Shhh,” said Natasha and wrapped him in her arms. She was so strong. How was she so strong when Steve was all in pieces? “I’m not going to say that. I’m not going to say that. It’s a bad situation all around. I’m not going to say that.”

 _No fuckin’ shit._ He made a sound that might generously have been identified as a huff of laughter, but honestly had more in common with a sob of gratitude.

“I hate feeling helpless,” Steve mumbled. “I hate _being_ helpless.”

“Shhhhh,” said Natasha and held him tighter.

 

“I can’t leave him out in the cold,” Steve said. “I have to find him.

“At least this is a good indication he’s recovering memory,” Clint offered.

“There has to be some way of getting ahead of him.”

His teammates exchanged glances. Tony nodded reluctantly.

Steve tried not to grind his teeth.

“More data,” Tony told him. “The more data points we have, the easier it will be to make predictions.”

“How many more?”

Tony flipped a hand in his direction. “Maybe half a dozen? Winter Wanderer is all over the map. This would be a lot easier if you could ask some questions.”

“No.”

“Steve’s right,” Natasha backed him up. “Barnes has to set the terms of their relationship or we’ll lose him for good.”

Tony sighed. “Fine. Let’s just watch the body count rise.”

“If he keeps going like he has, that shouldn’t be more than a few weeks,” Clint pointed out.

Steve sagged a little and squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay.”

 

Bucky did not like being chased.

“Are you following me?” he demanded, fear and anger radiating through the phone line.

Steve swallowed. “Yes.”

Breaking from routine, Bucky hung up without another word.

Steve couldn’t stop. If Bucky was worried, that had to mean they were getting too close.


	106. Chapter 106

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings for this chapter because Steve really really doesn't cope with not having something to fight. Some suicidal thoughts and general mind-fuck aftermath. If anyone has additional suggestions for warnings, please let me know in comments and I will add them.
> 
> Edit: depression, dissociation, and violence?

The immediate consequence of Steve's latest _yes_ was that Bucky broke all his previous patterns and went to ground. He wasn't at the next predicted location before or after the Avengers and there weren't any new hits, of any kind, for almost three weeks.

Steve thought maybe this was it. Maybe he shouldn't have answered the question.

After the first week, with no call, no sightings, and no sign of activity, Steve's initial optimism dropped away with all the speed of a motorcycle going over a cliff. Steve had never done well when he couldn’t fight. Later, he would have to admit that, if he had been alone, he might well have let himself just waste away.

His sleeping habits had been shit since Bucky’s vanishing act, not that they’d been great before. He stopped interacting with the others outside of official Avengers business. He had no appetite or motivation for actual meals. He consumed calories only because it was routine—and because JARVIS insisted on reminding him to do so. Not wanting to hear from anyone, unless it was Bucky, Steve tried to ask him to stop. The denial was firm. JARVIS would have to report if he was endangering himself.

After three straight days of not seeing anyone at all, Natasha let herself into his bedroom. Steve turned his head from where he was lying on his back on the floor next to the bed and saw she was carrying a dark purple canvas bag lined with silvery insulation material. It smelled like food. Meat, potatoes, vegetables and butter. Fresh bread. Something sweet and dairy. Chocolate.

He wanted none of it and glared halfheartedly. It was hard to muster the emotional energy to really protest either the intrusion or the assumption.

Feeling half out of body, he observed her put the bag down next to him and reach out with both hands to grab him by the collar. With something like detached curiosity, he let her pull him upright and drag him sideways so he was propped in a sitting position against the side of the bed.

He blinked slowly. Her mouth was an unhappy line.

"I've been eating," Steve said dully.

Shaking her head, Natasha corrected him. "No, Steve. You've been maintaining your supersoldier body."

He flinched at _maintaining_ and knew she was right.

"You can do better than this, Steve.”

She reached into the bag and lifted out a takeout box which she set in his lap and a fork which she slapped directly into his hand. She told him to open the box.

He complied. Chicken. Green beans. Mashed potatoes. A roll with a little foil pat of butter. Nothing complicated or unfamiliar.

“Eat,” she said.

Steve stabbed a forkful of green beans and put them in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed mechanically. It was as tasteless as Rumlow’s pasta had been.

“You have to make an effort here, Steve.” Natasha balanced on her toes, back against the bedroom wall, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands.

He stared at her obliquely, hoping she would leave. He’d deserve it if she did.

“I missed my chance,” he rasped, finally putting words to a persistent dark thought. “I didn’t have to accept his terms. Tony was right. I could have asked questions.”

Natasha’s face softened incrementally, but she said nothing.

“He called the tower,” Steve said. “He told JARVIS his conditions so they were in place before we ever talked.” He knew that she knew what he was getting at. He couldn’t have been the only one thinking it, even if only Tony had said something. To give himself a little more time, he took a forkful of chicken and pretended it needed more chewing than it did. “I was one of his HYDRA handlers,” he stated bleakly. “I could have ignored everything he said and he still would have listened to me. He wouldn’t have had a choice.” He stared at the wall next to Natasha, unable to meet her eyes. “You shouldn’t have backed me up with Tony. He was right. I should have asked questions while I had the chance.”

Natasha lifted her head and regarded him with a carefully non-judgemental gaze. “You could have given him orders,” she said.

Steve nodded and looked away again. “Yeah.”

“And he could hate and fear you,” she added, tone unchanged, “as much as his other handlers.” She caught his eyes when they darted back to her face. “You’re not HYDRA, Steve. They didn’t make you one of them. A real HYDRA handler would have crossed that line. You still know where it is.”

Wordless, Steve shook his head. He wasn’t even sure what he was denying.

With a sigh, Natasha reachd into the bag and pulled out another box for herself.

They ate in silence. Steve picked at his food while Natasha ate hers at a more measured pace.

When she was finished, she watched him for a while, then said, “Are you done?”

He nodded.

She took his half-finished box of food, packed everything back into the canvas bag, and slung everything over her shoulder. For a long moment, she stood over him, looked down. “Steve,” she said.

He looked up and knew she could read his shame and exhaustion.

“You’re making breakfast for everyone tomorrow,” she said.

Maybe he would have resented the order, but all he could feel was relief that someone still believed he could accomplish even that much.

He nodded.

Natasha turned to go. She’d just closed the door when Steve abruptly found himself on his feet.

“Wait,” he said, opening the door to find her waiting with raised eyebrows. He froze, flushing with shame. “What makes you so sure? I crossed so many lines already.”

The corner of her mouth twitched up in what was less a smirk and more a grimace. “He talked to you, Steve,” she reminded him, but he didn’t understand.

“That doesn’t mean he trusts me or even should trust me,” he pointed out.

She frowned at him. “Yes,” she said. “It does.”

 

The Avengers were onto him. The more responsibilities to the team he had, the more he had to leave his room and interact with them. His sleep quality was so low he wasn’t sure why he even tried.

Clint told him flat-out that if anyone (read HYDRA) had ever developed a supersoldier anti-depressant, they would have made him take it, even if Natasha had to immobilize him with a Widow’s Bite first.

Steve didn’t care. If there was no light at the end of the tunnel (read Bucky), he didn’t care if this heavy numb misery crushed him to nothing. The world had managed without him for seventy years. He wasn’t essential. He wasn’t so arrogant as to think they really needed him, not like Bucky, and if he couldn’t help Bucky, what the hell was he good for except hurting people and inspiring others to do the same?

 _You can’t help being what you are_ , Rumlow had said. Steve didn’t know what he was, but he didn’t feel like much of a superhero.

He caught himself wondering if the maintenance chair really had been a sort of kindness and then stopped in the middle of drying a plate, put it down on the counter with shaking hands, and fled to initiate a meeting with the deprogrammer he had been avoiding for months.

If that wasn’t rock bottom, he didn’t know or want to know what was.

“You can help me fix my thinking,” he blurted, before a word could come out of the other man’s mouth.

The deprogrammer looked at him with interest. “Precisely,” he said slowly. “I can help _you_ fix _your_ thinking, but the hard work will be all yours. Do you understand my meaning, Steve Rogers?”

Steve nodded jerkily and collapsed into a chair across the room from the man.

“How do I start?”

 

Bucky called four days later. It felt like a reward from the universe, despite what Bucky had to say.

It wasn’t a mission report. Not really.

“I went to the Ranch,” the Winter Soldier said, without a trace of Brooklyn. “The computers were intact.”

That might be useful information. There hadn’t been a question, however, so Steve said nothing.

Natasha squeezed his hand. The new protocol for Bucky’s calls was that Steve not take them alone.

“There were records... “ Bucky trailed off raggedly and Steve was struck by sudden foreboding stronger than the accent creeping into Bucky’s voice. “Records of… Fuck, Steve. If you hadn’t told me, I wouldna believed it. I thought… But it’s true.”

Steve didn’t dare respond to that when he wasn’t sure what Bucky meant and--

“You’re not who I thought,” said Bucky. “Stop hunting me. You won’t like what happens if you try to bring me in again.”

 _No_. He opened his mouth to say it, but Bucky beat him to the punch.

“I shoulda gone with Rumlow,” Bucky growled and hung up before Steve could even process a reaction.

At least they had two more location hits to go on now. The prospect of Bucky returning to HYDRA galvanized their efforts to find him first.

When Tony’s next prediction was a location in Arizona, not even out of the country, Steve convinced the team he was stable enough to go along. It wasn’t like they expected combat. They probably wouldn’t even find anything.

“Be careful, Steve,” Natasha reminded him, unnecessarily. “If he decides to take you out, he could do it with a bullet from a mile away and never give you a chance to change his mind.”

Steve set his jaw. “I’ll take that risk.”

 

“There’s nothing here either,” Steve reported. He looked down from the edge toward the winding Colorado river far below. All that red and gold and blue. How he wished Bucky, the Bucky he’d known or the version he’d thought he was starting to understand, was there to see it with him.

If he threw himself over the edge, would the fall kill him? No, he decided. He’d hit things on the way down, lose momentum. The fall from the train hadn’t killed Bucky. A tumble into the Grand Canyon wouldn’t kill Steve.

He took a step back and told himself he hadn’t seriously considered the possibility of stepping off the cliff. He almost believed it. He’d had a lot of practice believing his own lies now.

“Do you want me to circle around and pick you up?” was all Natasha asked.

“Nah,” Steve told her. “I’ll take the scenic route. Feel like I might even sketch a little. See you back at the hotel.”

“I’ll see you later, then. Keep your phone on, Steve.”

When it came, it wasn't just a bullet from a mile away. It was also a tranq from less than fifty yards. The bullet took him in the calf. The tranq hit him in the shoulder.

The sniper could have put them wherever he wanted. That suggested he wanted Steve alive. Steve put pressure on his leg wound but didn’t try to fight the effects of the tranquilizer. He passed out.

 

Steve woke up. The room was mostly dark and very cold. It smelled of old blood. He was hanging from a hook in the ceiling, restrained with a familiar set of mag cuffs. His leg, though it pulsed with hot agony, had been bandaged. His cowl, gloves, and boots were all missing.

Bucky stood in front of him, spinning a knife through the fingers of his right hand.

“Are you here to kill me?” Steve asked him.

Bucky smiled, eyes closed almost to slits. The expression contained zero humor. “Some of the others asked me that too, you know.” He opened his eyes and cocked his head, examining Steve critically. “I’m going to ask you what I asked them,” he said. His tone was conversational but his expression was tight and his eyes were dark and hard with rage and fear.

Steve nodded as best he could. He owed Bucky whatever answers he could give.

“Why should I kill you?” Bucky asked, which was the opposite of what Steve had expected.

Didn’t matter. He knew what he had to say. Steve licked his lips. He couldn't say he was sorry. He couldn’t explain. Not yet. Maybe not ever if his answer was enough to provoke Bucky to kill him now. “I raped you. I beat you. I stood by and let you be tortured. I put you in the chair they used to wipe your mind, even when you struggled. Even when you tried to resist. I ordered you wiped when you remembered Natasha before Insight launched. I watched you scream. I hurt you and I let you be hurt.” He had to try anyway. “And I am so fucking sorry. But I did.”

Bucky looked utterly lost, shocked. Why? Why did he look surprised? “You’re… you’re the first one,” he said, slowly, wonderingly, and so clearly hurting over it. “You’re the first one who said you were sorry. The first one who said it was… rape and torture. I knew you were different.”

“I… uh… what?” Steve had told him all this before. They’d argued about it. What had happened to make Bucky so surprised now?

“I’m sorry too,” Bucky said and Steve was confused until he added, “for the bullet. Just because supersoldiers heal fast doesn’t mean we don’t feel it. I know. I’m sorry. I had to know.”

“Know?”

“That I could hurt you, _Captain._ ” The last word came out dark and twisted. A curse.

Steve took a deep breath. He deserved that, he did. Bucky could shoot him in the head. Could leave him here to freeze or starve or suffocate. Could call up what was left of HYDRA and turn him over. It would be less than Steve deserved for his betrayal.

“I understand,” he said heavily.

Bucky didn’t say anything for several minutes. Steve began to lose feeling in his fingers and toes. He said nothing.

“For the sake of the relationship I thought we once had,” Bucky pronounced, “I choose not to kill you.”

Steve opened his mouth to say… Thank you? I understand? I’m sorry?

Bucky glared. Steve snapped his mouth shut.

“Don’t look for me anymore. I remember more every day. If I see you again, I might feel differently.”

Steve nodded weakly. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. Whatever you need to--”

Bucky was staring at him with wide eyes. “Bucky?” he repeated.

Steve stared back, not understanding.

“But…” his voice was suddenly small, uncertain, afraid, barely even accusing. “ _You_ said I’m _not_ Bucky.”


	107. Chapter 107

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve spends a lot of time in bondage in this chapter.

The pain in Steve’s body was nothing to the horror of finally understanding Bucky’s flight from the tower. The lack of sexual advances, the apology, _identifying himself to JARVIS as the Winter Soldier_ … it all made sense.

It was _all Steve’s fault_.

Steve drew in a ragged breath and swallowed against his rising gorge.

_Oh, fuck, Bucky. I’m a terrible Steve._

“ _No_ ,” he choked out, breath fogging in the cold of the meat truck. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… I… _No_ , Bucky. No.”

The Winter Soldier shrank back with an almost imperceptible flinch at Steve’s raised voice.

“But you said...You asked the Widow. If you were real...or if you were like me. That means… I’m not. You promised we were real. You lied. I can’t trust you.”

“We are!” Desperate for Bucky to listen, but without any real intention to escape, Steve twisted his wrists in the cuffs and strained on tiptoes to lean closer. “You’re Bucky Barnes. My best friend and the person I love most in the whole goddamn world.”

Bucky looked away. “No, I’m not. I can’t be. Steve Rogers couldn’t have used the real Bucky the way you used me. He didn’t even want Bucky, not really. They were both too stubborn and too afraid to be together.”

Seizing on that, Steve argued, “You wouldn’t even know that if you weren’t the real Bucky. We never told anyone we could have loved each other like that. We did love each other. We promised to never act on it. I broke that promise. I’m sor--.”

When Bucky looked back at him, his eyes were wet, a glimmer in the dark trailer. “You’re wrong. That only proves HYDRA taught us the same lessons. The files I’ve found were all meant to support Barnes Protocols. They had to be. You were right before. Not real. We can’t be real. Steve would have saved Bucky from HYDRA again. Or--or given him what he needed as his asset.”

“I was doubting _myself_ , not you, and I was _wrong_! Of course I didn’t want to treat you like HYDRA. It was abuse! We’ve had this conversation!” His head was spinning again. He didn’t think it was due to blood loss. Fuck, he hated feeling helpless.

Fists balled and arm whirring. Bucky shouted, “It was my life, Steve! It _is_ my life. Am I yours or not? Why can’t I please you?”

“You called me Steve,” Steve blurted.

“What the fuck else am I supposed to call you? Answer the goddamn question.” Bucky snarled.

“I… Buck. It’s not right. I don’t own you. I never did.”

There was an echoing thump as Bucky’s knees hit the floor of the trailer. “You could,” he whispered. “Everything would make sense again.”

“God, Bucky,” Steve breathed. He couldn’t even…

“ _Please_ , Steve.” said Bucky, shuffling forward. “Please. Don’t you want me?” A warm hand settled on Steve’s right thigh, searing in a completely different way than the pulse of pain though his other leg.

Steve jerked away. “Buck, stop. Not like this.”

Slowly, Bucky moved closer, pressing his shoulder and the side of his face into Steve’s legs.

“Bucky…”

Something was wrong. Movement outside.

Bucky’s head whipped around and he scrambled to his feet.

“Buck, wait!” Steve called, but it was too late. Bucky was gone again.

Steve let the tears fall to patter against the frost below.

 

“I did warn you,” said Natasha, examining the dressing on his bullet wound. “And you left your shield with your bike.”

Steve grit his teeth. “I didn’t feel like carrying it.”

She sat back and regarded him. “Steve.”

“Natasha.”

“It was a stupid risk,” she said finally.

Shaking his head, Steve turned away. “I had to give him his shot. He didn’t take it.” Not really, anyway, not the way Steve meant. This was a flesh wound, half-healed already.

“And now what?”

He fingered the shred of paper he’d found in the toe of his right boot. “I give him another shot.”

“He could kill you, Steve.”

Steve shook his head again. “He hasn’t yet.”

_43Q BA 71960 96431._ A promise.

 

When Steve woke up, he wished he didn’t know where he was.

“Stevie.”

It was Bucky’s voice. It was Bucky. It had to be. That, or HYDRA had finally broken Steve and all the time since that mission was a dream he’d conjured to escape reality.

“Bucky?” Steve coughed. He licked his dry lips and found them dusted with a slightly sour powder. He’d been drugged. Of course he’d been drugged. Had everything after this place been in Steve’s head? Was this the asset?

No. The past few weeks came back to him. He’d come to meet Bucky and...

“Do you know where you are?”

“HYDRA safehouse in Navi Mumbai,” he croaked. He couldn’t see Bucky. He couldn’t move at all. He’d been restrained to the bed with bonds meant to hold a Winter Soldier. He shouldn’t even be surprised.

“You ever have me here?” The question was mild, expressing only light curiosity, like the answer didn’t really matter.

It mattered. Oh, how it mattered.

“Once.”

“Tell me.”

“It was pretty early. Only us, Rumlow, and Rollins. No one suggested the restraints. Rumlow said I should fuck you but I jerked you off instead.” _You smiled at me, after. I am so so sorry._

“I don’t remember.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “I remember everything.”

The mattress dipped as Bucky sat. “Tell me?”

“I always loved you,” Steve began. “Do you remember how we met, Buck?”

“We met on a STRIKE mission.”

“Did we? How did we meet before?”

“When we were real? I… We were kids? I stepped into a fight you were losing.”

“I almost took a swing at you,” Steve offered, testing. “And we _are_ real.”

“You did take a swing at me,” Bucky corrected. “Never needed anyone to step in for you.”

“Not true. I always needed you.”

The silence stretched.

Steve opened his eyes again. “Buck.”

“What about when I needed you, Stevie?”

“You deserve better. I’m sorry.”

Bucky said nothing.

“I don’t know what to say, Buck,” Steve confessed, mouth dry.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t even know who we are.”

The door slammed.

Steve was alone with his growing headache, serious dehydration, the enormous gang-rape bondage bed, and his toxic thoughts.

By the time Natasha arrived to free him, he still hadn’t tested the restraints.


	108. Chapter 108

The phone calls resumed. One key difference: the second time Bucky called, he told Steve to talk.

The words sounded a mixture of grudging and eager, but maybe that was wishful thinking. "I'm sorry, Buck," he said, knowing it was so fucking inadequate. He didn’t look at Natasha, who was sitting with him.

He heard Bucky swallow and waited for him to speak. "All my programming tells me to not harm you, Steve."

Steve said nothing, what could he possibly say?

"But I've broken my programming before," Bucky continued, harsh now. "I shot you. Intentionally. Because I wanted to. Want to know how?"

Steve hesitated. While he would take more than a bullet, if it made Bucky feel better, there was a part of him that had never stopped reeling from the knowledge they could actually hurt each other in ways that were potentially unrecoverable. “Only if you want to tell me," he said, after a pause.

He caught the motion as Natasha nodded.

There was definitely something off about Bucky's laugh. "I'm not supposed to hurt HYDRA without orders."

When Bucky didn't immediately continue, Steve prompted: "I guessed that was why you were calling."

“You made it clear you’re not an operative of HYDRA," said Bucky, "But you’re still handler most of the time in my head. Glad to eliminate traitors…" He trailed off, clearly confused and more than a little torn. “I've been making exceptions for you since you showed up."

He sounded so miserable about it, Steve just wanted to leap through the phone line and gather him up. Not only was that impossible, it was a bad idea. "I'd rather be your friend than your handler," Steve blurted and immediately went cold. He couldn’t even look at Natasha, unwilling to see the censure he knew would be there. That had been the verbal equivalent of trying to jump through the phone line and he didn't imagine it would be taken very well.

He was right.

Softly, Bucky told him, "I think it's gotta be too late for that.”

Steve bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head. That was… No denying it. That was fair. It was more than he deserved that Bucky was even speaking to him.

Natasha squeezed his shoulder.

"So… Please? May I?"

"Yes," he said immediately. "You're a free agent, Buck. You can do wha–"

Bucky had ended the call.

 

 

“Steve.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you take out my trackers?”

Admittedly, Steve had wondered the same thing a few times since Bucky left. “Because you have a right to be free.”

Bucky scoffed. “That’s not how the world works.”

“It should be.”

“So you tried to _make it_ the way you think it should be?”

Put that way, it actually sounded kinda terrible.

“You deserve to be free, Bucky.”

“You don’t want me to be free,” Bucky countered.

“Of course I-”

“You want me to be yours.”

Steve... couldn’t honestly say no to that. “I’d like to see you. I’d like to get to know you again. I want to help you. You’re no one’s possession,” he said carefully.

“You want me to belong to you,” insisted Bucky, and Steve couldn’t read his tone at all.

“I want to belong to _you_ ,” Steve confessed.

A sharp intake of breath, followed by a long silence. “ _Why?_ ” Bucky whispered.

The line went dead before Steve could pull together a response.

 

 

_When I said I wanted to see you, this wasn’t exactly what I meant._

Steve didn’t say it. It wasn’t completely true. He’d take contact however he could get it, even if that meant letting Bucky manhandle him away from the team while they explored the recently identified underground base Steve was now completely certain he recognised. Clearly, HYDRA hadn’t been willing to replace the bedframe they’d broken, or maybe the resident had decided to keep it as some sort of sick souvenir.

The sheets and pillow case were the same fucking colors.

“You know,” said Bucky, “I remember this bed bein’ a hell of a lot more comfortable.”

Breathing. All he could do was keep breathing. Comfortable was not the word- No. He had to breathe and not panic. _We were drugged_ , he almost said, but he couldn't make a sound.

The hand not over his throat moved up from his stomach to his chest and then slowly back down. Up again.

“Steve?”

“Buh-” Steve choked.

The metal hand loosened. “Shit, sorry.”

“S’okay.” Whatever Bucky needed to do to feel safe was fine. Steve could take it. He coughed weakly.

Bucky looked stricken. “I should go. This was a mistake.” The hand on his chest was trembling slightly. The metal hand moved from Steve’s throat to his sternum.

“Please don’t.”

“I hurt you again. Not intentionally.”

“I deserve anything you want to do to me,” Steve said. His therapist might not think it was healthy, but it really bothered Steve that no one would punish him. The military had refused to make his discharge dishonorable. He’d been removed from every list of SHIELDRA agents facing prosecution.

Bucky rolled off the mattress. It was a new mattress. Steve couldn’t smell either of them on it and they’d done a thorough job of ruining the old one.

“You need punishment?” Bucky seemed to read his mind. “You say you’re not a Winter Soldier.”

Steve swallowed. “I’m not, but yeah. I wish I could give more than apologies. I wouldn’t ask you to hurt me, Buck. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Next to the stacked mattress and box spring, Bucky shifted in clear agitation. “You keep saying that.”

“I mean it.”

When he tried to sit up, Bucky pushed him back down flat. “But that’s _not how it works_ , Steve.”

“That doesn’t-”

They both froze as Steve’s earpiece came to life.

Tony Stark said, “Cap? You hearing me? We found the labs.”

Fuck. Steve closed his eyes for a moment and felt the rush of air as the door open and shut. Bucky wasn’t a threat to the Avengers. He had to let him go.

When he opened his eyes, he was alone.

 

 

The next time they met was in DC again. Steve had finally found a committee that wanted him to testify in person, even if it wasn’t against himself. It wasn’t like he was opposed to bringing others to justice. Reluctantly, he accepted the lawyers Tony had dropped on him. He wasn’t stupid.

Or maybe he was, because he refused to stay in a safehouse and instead got a room at the Hilton closest to the Homeland Security Acquisition Institute.

Mentally and emotionally exhausted but physically restless, Steve considered going for a run. Eventually, he decided against it. He’d made enough people unhappy today. He went down to the lobby for directions to the workout room in the hotel but, when he got there, it didn’t take long to see that he’d break their equipment long before the exercise was of any benefit to him.

He went back to his room and did an hour of mindless calisthenics to a background of a British biologist searching for killer fish on the television.

When he eventually got in bed, he stared up at the rough texture of the ceiling for a long time before closing his eyes.

Sleep must have come to him because the next thing Steve was aware of was the warmth of another body near to his, not quite touching. Only supersoldiers were that warm without being sick. He turned his head, and Bucky was lying fully clothed on his back on the other side of the bed.

“How long you gonna be in DC?” Bucky whispered.

“A couple weeks, maybe,” Steve whispered back, drinking in the sight of him.

Bucky said nothing. The glow of the city through the curtain was enough to see his frown.

Tentatively, Steve asked, “That okay?”

Sighing heavily, Bucky said, “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah.” He couldn’t help smiling. That was pure Bucky, no Winter Soldier in sight.

They lay in silence for a while. It should have been awkward, and it was, a little, but it was comforting to know Bucky was there.

“Been thinkin’ about what you said,” said Bucky after a time.

Steve made a listening noise to invite him to continue.

“You said…” Bucky trailed off. “It’s stupid. Forget it.”

“Please, Buck,” said Steve.

A slow exhale. “You said you want to belong to me. That you deserve anything I want to do to you. And. Before, Steve. When I had you in Arizona. You said _not like this_.”

Heart suddenly racing, Steve nodded. “Yeah. I said all that.”

There was another long silence. Eventually, just when Steve had almost given up, Bucky said, “You’d let me touch you?”

That didn’t require a moment’s thought. “Yeah, Buck.” He hadn’t exactly stopped him last time.

“May I?”

“Yes,” Steve agreed, breathless.

Bucky inched over until their sides were pressed together and then propped himself up to put a hand over Steve’s heart. “Breathe, Stevie,” he whispered.

Steve woke from the best night of rest he had had in months and regretted that rest deeply. The only evidence Bucky had been there was the pile of crushed surveillance devices on the bedside table.


	109. Chapter 109

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revised 9/15.

Bucky explained during his next call. “You brought most of those in with you and you didn’t sweep the place after you went out,” he said. His voice was both baffled and slightly critical. “I took three out of your jacket and one out of the clock radio.”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve said. The words felt next to meaningless by now. He wasn’t even sure exactly what he was apologising for this time. Not checking his hotel room for bugs?

“Do better,” Bucky said, and there was as much fear and uncertainty in that order as there was anything else.

“Yes, Bucky,” Steve agreed. Evidence suggested Bucky wanted him alive. The least Steve could do was take care of himself a little better.

 

Later that week, when Bucky climbed heavily onto his bed smelling like leather, blood, sweat, and acrid smoke, Steve kept his eyes closed and simply inhaled.

“You’re awake,” said Bucky. He sounded like the asset.

“Pr’tty sure I’m dreamin’,” Steve mumbled, lips barely moving.

“So goddamn fucking _stupid_ ,” hissed Bucky, more like himself, except he was the asset was Bucky too and Steve was too bone-deep run-down to puzzle on it right then. “I could do anything to you right now. Anything.”

The bed was shaking a little. At first, Steve thought it was Bucky moving around, but it was too subtle and regular for that.

 _Bucky_ was shaking. Enough to affect the whole bed.

Steve opened his eyes and turned to look. “Buck?”

The Winter Soldier was curled up on the other side of the bed. He was wearing a full set of his old HYDRA gear, fully armed, black smeared around his wild blue eyes. There was dry blood misted and splattered all over him. “I don’t. I don’t. I. Another handler.”

But Bucky Barnes was curled in on himself, shaking and hugging his knees as close to his chest as what he was wearing would allow and that was all Steve could see. “Please, Stevie. I don’t wanna.”

Bucky flinched when Steve sat up. “You don’t gotta do anything you don’t want, Buck. I swear-”

“Almost took me back,” Bucky interrupted and Steve had to crush the impulse to grab hold of the shivering supersoldier. “Tried to gimme another handler. I don’t. I didn’ wan’it. Swear, Stevie. I’m still _yours_.”

“Bucky-”

“An’ an’, you said. You _said_. No one else is my handler now. No one gets t’ tell me who I am. I’m _yours_.”

Horrified, Steve wasn’t sure what part to try to tackle first since he couldn’t simply tackle Bucky himself. “You-”

“ _Steve_. Please, Steve. Tell me. Tell me I remember right. I’m _yours_ , Steve. _Promised_.”

“You’re my friend,” Steve said, inadequately. He reached out carefully, laying his arm out just short of Bucky’s knee. From the looks of it, those knees had been kneeling in blood at some point recently.

Bucky swallowed hard and shook his head. “I’m not.”

Before Steve’s pounding heart could plummet too far, Bucky continued: “Only. Not only. You don’t love me-”

Steve’s damned soul, if he still had one, lurched.

“-like that,” Bucky finished on a terrified whisper. He stared directly into Steve’s face, searching.

 _Breathe_ , Steve reminded himself. This wasn’t Bucky trying to seduce him because it was all he remembered or suggesting Steve make use of either of the asset’s _functions_. This was pure panic and demands for honest answers. He owed Bucky whatever he wanted and what he wanted right now was the awful truth.

“You remember right, Buck,” he said softly.

“Yeah?” Bucky’s breathed, terrified and hopeful, eyes locked on Steve.

“We’re not just friends,” Steve confirmed.

“Oh, thank _fuck_ ,” Bucky exhaled.

He surged across the bed, pressed Steve down into the mattress, and pressed their lips firmly together at an awkward angle that Steve was sure had to hurt _both_ their noses.

 _Bucky_.

Steve heard himself make a... noise and tried to bring his hands up to do… something.

Before Steve could fully process the kiss, Bucky rolled off him, evading the reflexive grasp quick as he’d ever moved, and was out the hotel window Steve hadn’t even known could open.

There were fewer crushed cameras and microphones left for him this time.

 

The Avengers weren’t out of the fight against HYDRA, even if Steve was taking a break. They weren’t looking for Bucky specifically, but Steve knew, before Tony told him, that there hadn’t been any evidence of the Winter Soldier more than a few states from where Steve remained in DC.

Natasha visited once, watching Steve closely as she investigated his hotel.

Steve didn’t so much as try to pretend Bucky hadn’t been there. He couldn’t. Not with Natasha.

“And you’re planning to stay an extra week in a place you won’t let us secure,” she stated.

Steve shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. He thought of the terror on Bucky’s face when he’d talked about HYDRA’s attempt to reclaim him. He remembered the relief before the kiss. 

That kiss.

Natasha shook her head and moved to inspect the windows. “You’re an idiot, Steve.”

“Bucky said the same thing.”

“And I know you read that as concern, but that doesn’t make him safe.”

“Doesn’t make him a threat, either.”

“If he shows up in person again...”

Looking away, Steve said nothing.

Natasha wasn’t going to be happy, but she wouldn’t be surprised either, given who they were talking about.

_How does he keep doing this? Is he drugging me? Is he just that quiet? I’m a supersoldier too, damnit. How do you keep doing this, Buck?_

He might as well be a kid waiting up for Santa with all the luck he was having waiting up for Bucky.

Steve didn’t bother sweeping the rooms he stayed in for more than immediately deadly threats like bombs or assassins other than the Winter Soldier. Steve had no secrets other than those pertaining to Bucky and Bucky did a better job of it anyway.

Like Natasha could.

“Found it,” she announced, and withdrew a tiny white plastic ball from under the bed.

She brandished it at Steve. Steve had no idea what he might be looking at except that it didn’t look like any of the tiny cameras he’d seen before.

“Motion detector. Like a tiny pedometer.”

“That’s how he knows when I’m asleep?”

Natasha stared at him until it dawned on him what he’d admitted.

“Knows?”

“I’m not dead,” Steve pointed out.

Natasha appeared to be considering changing that.

It might not be what anyone else considered a reasonable answer, but it was _true_ and that meant something. It meant a whole damn lot.

 

“Steve,” said Bucky.

“I love you,” Steve said immediately. It was the only greeting he wanted to give. His apologies were pointless and maybe what Bucky really wanted out of these calls was for Steve to say no and order him back. Steve wouldn’t do that. It might be his wishful thinking.

“How do I stop?” Bucky asked and for an awful wonderful moment Steve thought he was asking how to stop loving Steve. “I don’t… I’m a Winter Soldier. I only know two things. You stopped. How do I stop?”

 _God, I wish I knew_.

Steve didn’t honestly know if he _had_ stopped fighting.

“You know more than that now,” he said.

“Remembering and knowing aren’t the same thing, Steve,” Bucky argued. “How?”

There was probably something wrong with how much Steve liked it when Bucky argued with him, but that wasn’t something he could fully blame on HYDRA.

_At least he’s admitting to memories and not lessons._

“I… ah.” Steve cleared his throat, struggling for the words, which was ironic given what he had to say. “It’s hard, Buck. It ain’t like it use’ta be. These days, it’s all about talking. That’s what’s... Normal now.”

The silence on the other end of the line grew long enough to worry him. If he hadn’t been able to pick up Bucky’s breathing, he’d have worried more.

“You…” Bucky’s voice trailed off like he’d spun his volume dial down. “You… Steve. You _talk_?”

“I didn’t say I was any good at it,” he retorted in instinctive response to Bucky’s disbelief.

There was a startled bark of laughter from the other end and then the dial tone.

Steve imagined the laugh had shocked Bucky as badly as it had him.

 

“What’s a man-purse?” Bucky asked, waking Steve during one of his last nights in DC.

Steve’s excuse for staying would expire at the end of the week. He would have to go back to New York and who knew if Bucky would follow. He’d escaped the tower once, but that didn’t mean they would be able to continue as they had been.

“A what?” he repeated blankly, turning his head. Bucky didn’t appear to be wearing a purse of any description. The blood-soaked combat gear had thankfully been replaced by a civilian jacket and jeans. The ball cap that completed the ensemble was currently on his bedside table upside down like a cup. It was holding Bucky’s latest sampling of modern surveillance equipment. He didn’t think that was what Bucky meant by man-purse. “No idea, sorry.”

“I met someone,” said Bucky.

_Don’t panic. He doesn’t mean it like that and even if he does, it’s okay. Whatever Bucky wants. It’s okay. Don’t panic._

But it would break his heart and, god, Steve hated himself. “Yeah?”

“For talking. Like you said?”

Relief crashed over him. Steve was a fucking monster for worrying. “That’s great, Buck.”

“People talk. He helps people talk.”

Had Bucky somehow acquired a therapist in the five days since his last call?

“Does it help?”

Steve should call his own.

“Listening helps,” said Bucky. “And being listened to.”

“I’m glad,” said Steve. He meant that.

 

Bucky didn’t call.

 

Bucky didn’t visit.

 

Bucky didn’t call.

 

“Captain Rogers,” said JARVIS.

“Yes, JARVIS?” Steve said, hope rising. It had been two weeks since he’d last heard or seen Bucky. Any longer and Steve was going to have start paying Tony for all the punching bags he was going through.

“You have a-”

 _Bucky!_ “Put him through, please,” he said.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” JARVIS said.

“Why not?” asked Steve. He knew he sounded desperate. “It _is_ him, right?”

“Because you do not have a call, Captain Rogers. You have a visitor.”

Tony Stark had definitely created that robot, AI, whatever JARVIS was.

Steve didn’t even care.

 

“My other friend says fake it ‘till you make it is a legit coping strategy,” was the first thing Bucky told him.

Steve hesitated just out of hugging range. “Bucky,” he said, trying not to choke up.

Bucky smiled at him. The expression didn’t look any more fragile than Steve remembered from the war. “C’mere, punk.”

It had been so damn long since _Steve_ had been the one to touch. Bucky had been the one in control for long enough now that Steve was relatively sure he was capable of genuinely inviting the embrace.

Steve stepped forward and tentatively embraced Bucky, who squeezed back with enough pressure to make his left arm hum. At once, they were clinging like the hug was a matter of life and death. Maybe it was.

“I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let HYDRA screw up my chance to have what I’ve wanted since we were teenagers,” said Bucky into his shoulder. “Fuck HYDRA. They can’t have us. Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers ‘till the end of the line, right, pal?”

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve said. “Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers ‘till the end of the line.”


	110. Chapter 110

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried but the last chapter kept growing. I was about to post part 110c/110 to dreamwidth today. There will be 115 parts here because I’ve made ao3 readers wait too long already.

 

“I’m tired,” Bucky breathed, slumping into Steve instead of pulling away from the hug. “Can we go upstairs and take it easy for a little?”

Nodding rapidly, Steve said, “Yeah, of course. Whatever you want, Buck.” The elevator arrived without comment from JARVIS. Steve was grateful not to have any reminders that they were under surveillance. The AI was an ally, not an enemy, but it still grated.

Steve offered to get Bucky something to eat or drink, but the other supersoldier was already dropping his duffle bag by the door of the bedroom Steve had been using. Without hesitation, Bucky started to pull off his long-sleeved shirt. “I missed layin’ down with you.” He studied Steve’s uncertain hovering. “We don’ have t’ get naked or do anything else.”

It still felt like they were teetering on the top of a very slippery slope, but Steve couldn’t say no when Bucky was not only asking but also apparently willing to compromise. It had to be a good sign that he wasn’t so focused on fucking or fighting anymore. Maybe it was all pretend, but it was pretend for both their sakes, wasn’t it? Bucky wasn’t just trying to please Steve anymore.

They both stripped down to boxers and lay down on the bed. 

“Y’know what else I want?” Bucky asked, rolling onto his side and bringing himself almost close enough to touch. There hadn’t been a repeat of the kiss.

That kiss. Steve had mixed emotions about that kiss. Very mixed.

“You not to talk for a bit, maybe,” Bucky answered himself. “Just nod or shake your head. I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Steve blinked at him in the semi-darkness and barely dared to breathe. 

“Can I touch you, Steve?”

Last time Bucky had asked, Steve had got himself all worked up over an innocent gesture. This time, he nodded.

Bucky scooted closer until his legs and hip were pressed along Steve’s side. Then a hand, Bucky’s left, oh _fuck_ , slid over Steve’s pelvis to cup Steve’s rapidly growing bulge through his boxers. 

"Jesus, Bucky," Steve groaned, all attempts to stay quiet forgotten at once. _Nothing_ innocent about that touch. He’d barely touched himself since their last HYDRA mission together. Still, this wasn’t right. “Wait, I’m not…”

”Shhhh," Bucky breathed, pale eyes intent and searching. "Anything, Steve. That's what you said. Whatever I want. Whatever I need to feel safe."

Chill metal cupped and held him. It felt like every single muscle in his fucking suped-up body tensed and relaxed. Gasping at the sensation, Steve nodded jerkily and tried not to break eye contact. He had said that. Anything.

"I need this," said Bucky, voice thick. "No one lets a weapon do this. It was different, with the drugs, with you, but I never got to choose it before.” His hand flexed and Steve’s whole body jerked in response. “Maybe I woulda, Stevie. If it was you asking.” The way his accent faded in and out lent an additional layer of unreality to what was happening.

“Buck, wait,” Steve gasped.

“I _know_ you, Steve. When was the last time you let yourself feel pleasure? You said you wanted to be mine. Let me have you. Let yourself have this. Have me.”

“Bucky,” Steve said unsteadily.

“C’mon, pal. You know what I’ve been doing the last while. Really so unbelievable I want to do this instead now?”

Steve opened his mouth to explain his hesitation.

“Shut the fuck up, Captain Rogers,” Bucky snarled. The hand withdrew.

Captain Rogers shut the fuck up. Steve had almost forgotten how wrong that title was in Bucky’s mouth. 

“You listen to me. You said. You said we’re not only friends. You said that. And if you try any bullshit about us being brothers, I swear, hand to _God_ , Stevie.” Bucky fell abruptly silent and his expression made Steve intensely uncomfortable. What was left of his erection subsided completely.

When Bucky did nothing but stare down at him, face set, Steve tried prompting, “Yeah?”

In a low growl, Bucky repeated, “ _No talking_. You said it. M’not gonna let you take it back,” but some of the confidence had gone out of him.

Steve made himself relax under Bucky’s sharp eyes. It was an act of will and he let the struggle show on his face while he kept his body easy and pliant. 

“I love you, you goddamn fucking moron,” Bucky said, but he didn’t sound angry, or pleading, or even fond. He sounded tired. He sounded heartbroken. He stared into Steve’s eyes, looking for… something. 

Steve couldn’t take it. He closed his.

Bucky grabbed him by both shoulders and shook him until he opened them again. “You don’t get it. You’re… you’re my one good person. You get _that_ , right?” he demanded, expression twisted wretchedly. “I’d say my one good thing, but you’re not a thing.”

_Neither are you._ Steve put the right edge of his tongue between his teeth and bit down to the edge of pain.

“We made it to the future. We’re together. Do you understand that? How amazing that is? It’s not just the future. It’s a future where _we can be together_ ,” Bucky said, a hard metal pointer finger emphasizing each word by poking him in the sternum hard enough to bruise even a supersoldier. “I want you. I want to _be_ with you. To hell with the rest. We’ll fucking figure it out, got me?” He punctuated the question with another poke of his finger that was more like a stab.

Steve did his best to suppress the flinch, certain Bucky would misinterpret any negative reaction.

Bucky stared down at him for a while longer and then carefully pushed himself back up and removed his weight from Steve’s legs and chest. 

Steve didn’t try to sit up, just turned his head to look at Bucky resettling next to him.

Bucky closed his eyes for a long moment and then scowled somewhere in the vicinity of Steve’s hip. “Now you can talk.”

“Okay,” Steve said immediately. 

Bucky’s head jerked up in an untrusting glower.

“You’re right,” Steve said. “I’m yours. You can be mine if you want to. We can…” He stared at his feet. “We can pursue any kind of relationship you want. I just don't want to jump into anything you might regret or… feel… differently about.... later.”

The glower, which had been softening, returned with double intensity.

Hastily, Steve promised, “It’s not up to me to decide what that means for you. I just want you to know…” He hesitated over the wording for a long moment. “I don’t think I’m going to feel comfortable initiating anything between us for a long time, if ever. So, ah. Ball’s in your court, Buck. You’re in charge now. Just… please, Bucky, let’s take it slowly. Don’t let me not be good to you.”

Glare softening again a little, Bucky eyed him pensively until he gave a little nod to himself and his eyes darted away. “What if I don’t want to be in charge?” His eyes flicked back to Steve’s face and then skittered away to somewhere on Steve’s chest. “What if I’m the asset?”

_Please no._ Steve mentally stomped on his first response and made himself take a few long slow shaky breaths before answering. 

“Your asset,” Bucky clarified, unnecessarily.

_Your asset and your Bucky._ Steve remembered. “I love you,” he said. “You’re the most important person in my life. I want you to be safe and happy. If…” He had to stop and take another few breaths. “If that’s what you want… some of the time or all of the time, even-” He tried not to let his voice break and failed. “Can you promise me you won’t let me hurt you again?”

“I don’t need to promise that. You won’t.”

“But I already have. What if-”

Bucky interrupted: “I’m going to kiss you,” and forcefully cut off what Steve was going to say. “HYDRA and SHIELD made us hurt each other,” he argued, almost against Steve’s lips as they broke the kiss. “That wasn’t us. We didn’t have the choices we have now.”

“No, I mean, yes! I mean. You shouldn’t be the one comforting me,” Steve protested. “Not after what I-”

“So. Goddamn. Stupid,” Bucky sighed, peppering Steve with kisses between words. He kissed Steve on the lips again. “Punk.” Their foreheads rested together. “You need a goddamn keeper, I swear.”

_Job’s all yours._ Steve was startled by the watery laugh escaping his own throat. “Bucky, asset, whatever you want to be, sweetheart, I-”

“Good thing I’m remembering how to handle you,” Bucky said dryly and flashed Steve a grin that looked almost genuine, stunning him into silence. “My other friend,” he said abruptly.

“The one from DC who listened?” Steve checked. 

Bucky nodded. “He said there are different kinds and levels of intimacy, and if you’re scared…” There was a goading edge to the question as otherwise gentle as it was. “We can do some exploring before-”

“I’m _terrified_ ,” Steve blurted. On another occasion, he’d have risen to the challenge, but this was a different sort of challenge. 

Flattening his upper body over Steve, Bucky nosed his cheek. It was the sort of gesture Steve associated with the asset, but it didn’t make his heart clench up in dread the way he’d expected. It was _him_ , after all, and he would _always_ be Steve’s most important person. The rest was just detail.

“You think I’m not, pal?”

Neither of them said much of anything after that, though their cuddling brought them closer and closer. 

Steve woke an unknown length of time later. He must have been sleeping with his mouth open because it felt gross and tacky. His eyes felt gritty. He went to lift his right arm to rub at them and when he couldn’t move, he looked down to find Bucky with both arms wrapped around it and a leg hooked over his waist, trapping him. Steve settled back and closed his eyes again. 

“Hey,” said Bucky, quietly, not moving.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” Steve replied.

“I woke up when you did.”

Of course he had. 

“Want to go back to sleep?” Steve asked.

There was another long period of quiet. Just when Steve was beginning to drift off again, Bucky said, “...No. We should eat.” 

Steve opened his eyes and looked down to see Bucky eying Steve’s midsection. He’d continued to lose weight and Bucky could tell and was clearly unhappy about it. 

“Can we go out to get something?” Bucky asked, a tentative note to the question that Steve really didn’t like. 

_Does he think he’s being held here? Should he be?_ Steve wasn’t about to check with anyone who might confirm their lack of freedom. “Sure. It’s New York. Something will be open.”

The elevator came when Steve asked, so he figured that was good enough. 

They ended up with burgers and bar snacks. Deep fried battered vegetables, five flavors of chicken wings, and little squares of pepperoni pizza.

It felt so good to watch Bucky eat that Steve didn’t notice his own burger going cold until Bucky was holding up a lump of battered something in front of his nose. “Open up?” 

Automatically, Steve did and let Bucky pop the thing into his mouth. He bit down and the juice of the mushroom nearly burned his tongue. Steve wasn’t a huge fan, but Bucky had fed it to him. As he chewed and swallowed, he considered the hunger in Bucky’s avid gaze. All he’d have to do was suggest they pack up their food and go back to the tower. It would be easy.

But he wasn’t about to start anything. Not yet, if ever. He wouldn’t take advantage. 


	111. Chapter 111

“The CIA wants to send an agent to talk to the Winter Soldier,” Natasha told him. “To corroborate some of what they’re getting from other surviving agents in custody.”

She met Steve’s eyes levelly as he tried not to grind his teeth.

“He’s _not,_ ” he started to protest. _Bucky’s not a prisoner. If_ anyone _should be arrested…_ He cut the thought off as well as he could. He was trying to be more positive and he didn’t want to put more tally marks on his therapy homework.

“The perception that he _is_ keeps him safe here,” Natasha reminded him. “You know how limited our options are since agents started talking about him.”

Exhaling, Steve deflated a little. It was true and he _did_ know.

“Without you,” she added. “You influence him just by being present.”

Which made sense, considering the circumstances, but didn’t mean he was happy about it. Bucky was affected by Steve’s _absence_ too. “I’ll let Bucky know,” said Steve.

Bucky and Nat were _not_ safe to leave together. To put it very mildly, her presence confused and agitated him. Apparently, neither of them knew exactly what history they had together, but whatever it was wasn’t good. Since Bucky had come in to the Tower, they had met twice and both times had ended with some level of violence.

“I’ll ask Clint to be there,” she promised.

So far, Bucky had warmed to Clint more than any of the other Avengers. He was really the only option.

Bucky’s reaction to the news was a tired sigh and deepening furrow in his forehead. “Most of what I remember isn’t coherent or detailed, Steve.”

Steve knew that, but it still hurt to hear. “But you know things,” he said. “And you know more when you’re prompted.”

Bucky closed his eyes and leaned his weight into Steve’s side. “Yeah. You remember how I work.”

“You’re not a machine. You’re a real person.”

Chuckling weakly, Bucky pressed his chin against Steve’s shoulder. He said, “Easier if I was.”

Steve shook his head, afraid of how Bucky meant that and even more afraid to ask, and turned to put his arms around him.

Much too soon, there were debriefings, assessments, and arguments. Once or twice, Steve genuinely considered petitioning Asgard for asylum. Some of the attempts to debrief Bucky turned out to be outright interrogations Clint had to put a stop to or have JARVIS call Steve to put a stop to and Bucky’s current reality was still… fragile, particularly when he was tired or stressed, which was often. When he shut down, Steve knew it was exhaustion, confusion and fear, but to an interrogator it too often looked like hostility or resistance.

Steve would send Bucky off with whatever gesture of affection he could accept with an audience and hope he’d come back without retreating into being the asset.

They weren’t missions. This wasn’t HYDRA. Steve meant it when he said Bucky was in charge now, but as long as everything was as precarious as it was, Steve had to protect him.

And however frustrated Bucky was, so far as touching _each other_ went, they didn’t go much past first base.

 

Steve was in the middle of an intense workout when he became aware of Bucky’s presence near the elevator door. They were the only ones in the gym. Twenty-three days had passed since Bucky had had any sort of violent episode, but the others were very careful about unexpected run-ins and Natasha was still avoiding him completely.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky swore, focus glued to the sweat running down Steve’s neck and back. He licked his lips. “Mind if I go jerk off?”

Heat bloomed under Steve’s skin. He was certain his face was bright pink. How long had Bucky been watching him? “You, ah, yeah, go ahead.” He bit back the impulse to tell Bucky he didn’t need to ask. Buck would only look disappointed and tell him he was beating a dead horse. This was their compromise. “Anything I can do for you?” He wasn’t exactly unaffected by the knowledge Bucky was going to touch himself.

Bucky smiled. “Nothing you weren’t doin’ before.” He removed himself to the half-bath near the treadmills. Showers, especially semi-public ones, were to be avoided.

It was hard to go back to his workout when he had to keep adjusting himself in reaction to the faint sound and scent of Bucky’s pleasure.

“Steve, _please_?” Bucky cried out.

Steve tightened his fists. A strip of tape tore from the strain. “Of course, Buck.”

 

“You haven’t touched me once since I got back,” Bucky accused, pursuing Steve into the bathroom.

Fighting the urge to groan, Steve hid a scowl behind a facecloth. He was still benched from anything except HYDRA missions, which had tapered off considerably, but no one was stopping him from helping in a non-combat role in other situations. The damn deprogrammer (he was always deprogrammer and not therapist when Steve was particularly unhappy) even approved of Steve’s desire to use his enhancements for other purposes. The last week had seen him hauling trees and bits of buildings in an Illinois town that had been hit with some sort of man-made cyclone grown out of control.

Bucky, whose legal status could best be described as optimistically pending, wasn’t cleared for _anything_ yet.

“I did say I wasn’t gonna start anything, Buck,” he reminded him. That included giving Bucky explicit permission to give Steve permission. He couldn’t stay dependent on Steve for orgasms. They’d worked on it. It worked a little for Steve to deny his own climax until Bucky got himself off without direct permission. Bucky was used to coming regularly when he was out of cryo, but only on command. He was a long way from reclaiming his sexual autonomy.

“Can I start something, then?” Bucky demanded. “Wait, no, I’m not asking permission to want you. Take your fuckin’ bath alone.” He turned on his heel and stalked out.

Steve blinked after him, not even sure what was going on. When Bucky didn’t come back, he went back to hunting for tweezers. He thought they’d removed most of the splinters on-site, but he kept finding new ones being pushed out. The bathtub filled slowly.

A washcloth took off the worst of the grime before he stepped into the hot water. It had been a few weeks now since Steve had started taking baths instead of showers and he had to admit it helped. He actually felt clean when he finished a bath.

Bucky refused to do anything except shower unless they shared. Steve was not prepared to do that yet. The tub was big, but it wasn’t quite big enough to comfortably fit two supersoldiers without encouraging more wet naked canoodling than felt safe.

Slowly, Steve relaxed into the steaming water and reached for his shampoo. It was something Bruce had cooked up for him that smelled like honey and milk and potassium hydroxide lye, and not at all like the products SHIELDRA had provided.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted.

Steve was out of the water and leaving a wet trail to the bedroom before the timbre of the cry registered.

Naked, hands and hair covered in foam, and dripping rapidly chilling water everywhere, all Steve could do was gulp and stare. Buck _had_ said he wasn’t going to ask permission, but Steve hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t even thought it was possible at this point.

“Like what you see?” Bucky smirked at him, stretching his arms above his head so Steve had a clear view of the pearlescent strands and smears of come across his chest. His eyes went to Steve’s crotch, dilating even more than before. “Yeah, you do.” His body language was smug, a little proud, and extremely inviting.

Stiffly, Steve turned and fled.

 

“Eat this,” Bucky demanded.

Steve looked up from the old reports on his tablet and nearly took a sandwich to the nose. “What?” He pulled back and swiped at a drop of what turned out to be mustard.

“Eat this,” Bucky repeated, even less patiently, standing over him.

“Bu-ghuh!” The moment his mouth was open far enough, Bucky took advantage.

“No excuses now, Rogers. This isn’t the Depression. Take a break and eat your fucking lunch.”

In addition to the mustard, the sandwich was beef and cheese with lettuce and tomato. Steve tried not to choke on it.

“So,” said Bucky, falsely conversational. “I can’t help noticing I’m a lot better at taking what you put in my mouth than you are at taking what I try to put in yours.”

“Not helping,” Steve told him, hoarsely, as soon as he could speak.

Both of Bucky’s eyebrows went up. “We could work on that.”

“How about I finish this sandwich?” was Steve’s weak counter-offer. He fought the urge to squirm under Bucky’s looming shadow.

“That’s a start,” Bucky allowed, and retreated. “I’ll bring you another one. What do you want to drink?”

It took a Steve a few seconds to realize the tablet had gone with him.

  

“I’m going to touch you,” Bucky announced the next time they were naked together touching themselves. He had already come, no prompting or permission required.

Steve was too close to immediately think to protest (he didn’t _want_ to protest) and Bucky’s hand ran down his chest to rest over Steve’s own hand on his leaking dick. There was no direct contact. Possibility alone was enough to push Steve over the edge and that was it. Bucky was a warm weight relaxed against his side, slightly damp and impossibly perfect.

 _Okay_ , thought Steve. He repeated it aloud as soon as his breathing slowed. _“_ Okay. We can do this. That was okay.”

“It’s easier once you get the touching boundary out of the way, I think,” said Bucky, languid and pleased.

_Wait. What?_

Reality collided with the afterglow of orgasm like the words were artillery shredding a parachute. Steve twisted for the bedside wastebasket. _Don’t think about it!_

Rumlow and the Lockbox and the first time he’d touched Bucky like that and how many times had Bucky heard that exact phrase that-

Too late.

 

Even after Steve assured him that it had been the words and not the touch that set it off, Bucky wouldn’t try again for weeks.

“I’m gonna say stuff like that, sometimes,” said Bucky. “All that stuff the Commander said about horses? Basically verbatim from the user manual the Russians put together. They never let me read the thing, of course, and the book’s gone now, but I heard enough of it I could probably write my own copy.”

Steve shot him a look from across the too-large bed. By now, he was fairly sure Bucky didn’t _want_ to be the asset the way HYDRA had made the asset be, but there were moments he wasn’t sure Bucky remembered that.

“I won’t,” Bucky promised. “I’m not interested in another handler and you know the important stuff. Anyway, they tried. I’m here.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened in Ohio?” Steve asked hesitantly. He remembered Bucky coming to him incoherent, shaking, and covered in blood. He knew it had been a close call, but the clean up had been especially thorough and the Avengers hadn’t ever had the complete story. If Bucky had shared more information in any of his interviews, they hadn’t shared the resulting intel with the Avengers.

“No,” said Bucky. “Unless the imagining is keeping you up.”

“The only thing keeping me up is your jabbering, jerk,” Steve told him automatically. “Wait, no. I kinda do want to know, but I mostly want to know how sure you are no one has this manual anymore.”

The sheets rustled as Bucky turned on his side to face away from Steve. “Very,” he said. The word came out dark and hard.

“Good,” said Steve. He ached to reach out, but Bucky’s intentional distance prevented him from even trying.

  

Steve was going crazy. There was no other explanation. He had lost what was left of his mind.

The thing was, Bucky wouldn’t touch him unless they were sleeping. He wouldn’t even touch Steve while they were _going_ to sleep. Worse, the more tightly wound they both were, the more nightmares they had. Bucky had had more violent episodes in the past week than in the previous six weeks all put together.

Starvation was a good word for it.

Steve felt like scum all over again because if this was how he felt after two and half weeks, Bucky had clearly been the exercising all of the superhuman restraint he’d learned as the asset not to simply jump him and demand physical intimacy. While Steve often felt raw immediately after therapy, he didn’t usually burst into tears at a gentle touch to his shoulder. Clint had looked almost comically taken-aback and pushed him at Natasha for an embarrassingly long hug.

Nat hadn’t appeared too comfortable either.

Steve had to do something. This wasn’t a situation he could solve with punching. How could he convince Bucky that he really meant it when he said he was ready to let Bucky do what he wanted? What they _both_ wanted?


	112. Chapter 112

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings for implied domestic violence (nothing is actually any worse than at the Retreat), bondage, and inadequate negotiation because Steve and Bucky continue to fail to communicate. See the end of the chapter for details.

“Holy shit, Rogers!“ Tony Stark blurted upon seeing him.

“Didn’t JARVIS tell you I was here?“ Steve crouched to pick up the clipboard Tony had dropped when Steve had apparently startled him and set it on the closest available surface. “I thought you were expecting me.“

Tony’s frown was incredulous. “I wasn’t. That’s not.” He pulled off the protective glasses he had been wearing and squinted at Steve’s bruised neck and bloodshot eyes. “Have you, oh, looked in the mirror today, Cap?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, but I swear that has nothing to do with why I’m here.”

“Really,” said Tony. “You think maybe it should? I’d offer you an armor to stand guard or something, but that didn’t turn out great for me and Pep. Then again, your boyfriend clearly _is_ a danger to your physical health, so-”

Interrupting, Steve pulled the set of STRIKE-issue magnetic cuffs out of his shield bag and said, “I was hoping you could either improve these or do something to make them a little less… SHIELDRA?” He didn’t have the energy to worry about whether he should be upset by the label Tony had given Bucky.

The question itself appeared to insult Tony. “Can I? Did you seriously just ask me that? Can I?” He took the cuffs. “Tell me you’re planning to use them for _your_ safety. I don’t want to make it easier for him to beat you up.”

“He’s not beating me up,” Steve insisted tiredly. “He woke me up and I triggered him because I forgot...” _when we were,_ what _we were,_ “...to be careful.”

Tony Stark scoffed. “So, he _is_ beating you up, but it isn’t his fault.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Capsicle.”

He started to rub at his face with his free hand and immediately thought better of it. “Will you do it? Ideally, I’d like them to be relatively comfortable for several hours.” There was no fighting the rising flush. “Ah, comfortable to lie on, too. Not just to wear.”

Tony’s expression softened. “Yeah. Sure. I can do that.”

 

It was obvious, as soon as he stepped onto the floor and saw Bucky’s face, that the Winter Soldier had found a way to listen in on his conversations again.

“Buck…”

“I know they aren’t for me,” said Bucky, but he didn’t look like he knew.

“They’re not!”

“But. Are they for the asset?”

“No!” Steve only realized he hadn’t said it loudly enough or that Bucky was lost in a memory, when Bucky continued to talk.

“The girls were cuffed to the beds at night. To help them remember, not to stop them escaping.” He was smiling slightly, but it was wrong. “No one ever-”

“Jesus, Bucky, _no_. _No_ , I’m not cuffing you to the bed. The cuffs are to use on _me_.”

Bucky stopped and Steve realized what had been so off before. Bucky hadn’t really been looking at him.

He was looking now.

“We’re not cuffing _you_ to the bed,” Bucky announced, focused and intense. “It’s not safe. I’m not safe. You gotta fight back better next time. You can’t count on confusing me.”

This was not a conversation Steve was interested in having for the umpteenth time. “No one is getting cuffed to the bed,” he said, and immediately knew he was turning pink.

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Punk?”

 _Well, that’s done it._ “...Unless you’re into that?”

The expression dropped off Bucky’s face. “What,” he said, affectless.

Steve winced and fumbled for the words he needed. “Into me, I mean. In them. For you. So, they are for you, but not to use, except, fuck, I mean, to use on me. I-“

Still without discernible emotion, Bucky said, “I’m always into you, Stevie.” He turned away and walked into the bathroom without giving any more clues to what he was thinking or feeling.

 _Shit_.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said aloud. Bucky would hear him, but he could pretend he hadn’t. “I could have thought this out better. I’m more comfortable with letting you do what you want if I know I can’t do anything you _don’t_ want. That’s all. We don’t have to use them. Hell, Tony hasn’t even had a chance to do anything with them yet.”

The silence was long enough that Steve gave up on a response. There was no sound of Bucky doing anything in the bathroom, though, so Steve kept an ear out while he went about the first task that occurred to him and began to set out ingredients for sandwiches. Hot sandwiches. This wasn’t cooking, just assembling. The sandwich press had to be Steve’s favorite small kitchen appliance. Tony Stark had tried to tell him about maybe a dozen other things it could do, including burgers, bagels and small pizzas, but Steve and Bucky were mostly interested in hot sandwiches.

Lettuce was a waste of space for them anyway. There weren’t very many calories in lettuce. If they wanted lettuce, they could put it in a salad and get junk calories from the dressing.

Had he heard a noise? No.

Salad. Half a dozen sandwiches was enough. He could make salad. They had some other vegetables. He could add sliced apples and maybe heat up some strips of steak. In the back of the fridge, they still had a most of a block of weird artisan farmer’s cheese made from raw milk with peppercorns. It was probably one of Tony’s attempts to broaden his horizons. It was fine in small quantities.

Apples. He would slice the apples first and they could eat them even without a whole salad.

“He’s had them twenty-two minutes,” said Bucky from behind him. His voice was quiet but not so horribly flat now. “He is a genius.”

Steve put down the knife in a smooth motion that did little to hide the fact he had almost changed his grip on it. “Okay.”

“I don’t want us to be afraid of each other.”

Bucky had definitely noticed.

“Sorry. Stupid reflexes.” Steve tried to relax his neck and shoulders. It didn’t work so well.

“My friend in DC says it’s hard for people to make well-considered decisions when they’re afraid.”

Someday, Steve was going to find out exactly who Bucky’s friend was and thank him. Some of what Bucky repeated made him want to punch the guy, but that wasn’t an unusual desire for Steve, so he couldn’t weigh it too heavily against all the good. Bucky didn’t respond nearly as positively to any professionals he had met in the Tower.

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky. I’m afraid of me.”

“That’s stupid,” said Bucky. He picked up a sandwich and stalked to the corner of the entertainment area to eat it.

 

Unsure of Bucky’s actual stance on the matter, Steve didn’t ask Tony about the cuffs until four days later when he learned Tony had made completely new ones. Two pairs, in fact.

The new magnetic cuffs were definitely not of SHIELD or HYDRA origin. Steve didn't think he wanted to know the thought process behind the result, but he felt it was safe to say no one would be confused about where the cuffs had come from.

They were wider with less potential to bite into skin. The first set was bright blue with little cartoon rainbows and multicolored smiley faces. The interior of the new cuffs was lined with tan suede or something very like it. The outside gave slightly to the touch but was another material and clearly meant to be water-resistant. The second was striped in pink, purple, and blue. The lining was the same purple as the exterior stripes.

"I'd like to be clear," Tony stressed, "that these do not constitute fuzzy handcuffs." He paused. "Or furry ones."

Steve did his best to look confused, but he could feel the blush rising. “Th-anks?” Just to add to his embarrassment, his voice cracked on the word.

Tony Stark gave him a knowing look. “There are a handful of ways to open them. Saying _red_ ,” the cuffs opened with with a muffled _chh-clunk_ , “is one of them, but feel free to pick another safeword or multiple safewords. Tell JARVIS what you want.”

“Oh my god, Tony.” If spontaneous combustion was real, now would be a great time.

“I think you mean _thank you, Tony._ ” He smirked. “Sleep, fuck, whatever. These things are safe and comfortable. The sane and consensual parts are up to you two.”

Steve sighed and covered his eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“You’re welcome.”

 

“I want to hang you up like in Arizona,” said Bucky, like it was a perfectly normal thing to say over lunch. “The anchors for the bags should be able to take your weight.” They’d installed a pair of heavy bags in the spare bedroom, despite the concerns of nearly everyone Steve knew in the tower that he might become a recluse again without a reason to go to the gym.

They needn’t have worried. Bucky had taken vengefully to his old role of making Steve socialize, even if that now made Bucky himself a terrible hypocrite.

“Okay,” Steve said.

“You’re not even gonna ask what for?” Bucky looked more than a little disgruntled.

Steve shrugged and smiled a bit sheepishly. “Not much you could do that I’d say no to, Buck.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “Yeah, see, if _I_ said that, you’d worry.”

 _I’m not the one who was brainwashed and tortured._ _Not for decades._

“I’ll stop you if I don’t like it.” He still wasn’t fully convinced Bucky would do the same, but that was why Bucky had to be the one in control.

“So, if I wanted you to replace the bag?”

Buying time to consider his words, Steve chewed his bite of chocolate cake slowly before swallowing. “I… might actually feel better if you hurt me.”

With a humorless chuckle, Bucky pointed his fork at him. “Haven’t I hurt you enough?”

_I don’t think you could ever hurt me so much I wouldn’t still want you._

He didn’t say it, but Bucky caught his thoughts anyway. “Damnit, Stevie. We’re a fucking matched fucked up set. We fucking _deserve_ each other. Why can’t you believe I feel the same way and there’s nothing you could do to change that?”

Steve took another bite of cake instead of answering. Steve had no good answer to that. Steve knew it and Bucky knew it.

“Well,” said Bucky, “I wanna hang you up and do things to you. Not gonna ask me what those things are?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Steve shook his head. “I trust you, Bucky.”

Bucky only scowled.

 

There were only a few things that occurred to Steve to expect. Bucky had said _like in Arizona_ , and Steve didn’t exactly anticipate he’d be used for target practice.

It was with a heady mix of nerves and arousal that he helped take down the reinforced heavy bags, stripped, let Bucky snap him into the striped cuffs, turned his back to the door, and then waited while Bucky attached the cable to the joining of the cuffs and hoisted them up until Steve’s bare heels were only lightly resting on the carpet.

Still fully dressed, Bucky looked him up and down, lingering briefly on Steve’s half-hard cock. “Comfortable?”

“Yeah,” Steve croaked.

“Good.” Bucky stared at him for a minute in silence, then licked his lips, turned away, and walked past him out of the room.

After a few minutes, Steve admitted to himself that he might have misjudged Bucky’s intentions.

There was a series of loud noises from the kitchen, followed by Bucky’s multi-lingual cursing.

Steve waited.

“You okay in there, Stevie?” Bucky called, maybe ten minutes later.

“I’m fine, Buck,” Steve promised.

About the same length of time passed again before Bucky came back.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

Steve did and listened to Bucky set something on the carpet. He could smell… almost everything they had that was ready to eat.

“Take what you’re given. No…” Bucky hesitated. “No… chewing.”

 _Oh God, Bucky._ Futilely, Steve tried not to imagine the reason for that hesitation.

The first thing Bucky fed him was a square of milk chocolate. It was easy to let it melt on his tongue until Bucky told him to swallow. Next was a section of orange, bright and sweet and clean. Steve used his tongue to press it against his hard palate until it burst. He sucked the juice out and swallowed the remains whole. The cube of cheddar after that wasn’t a challenge. He rolled it around his mouth until it became soft enough to swallow.

Bucky said, “Good,” and continued to feed him. There were crackers with a variety of jams and condiments, more fresh fruit, more cheese, slices of hard boiled eggs, and various desserts from cookies to caramels.

After a while, Steve’s throat hurt a little from morsels that weren’t quite soft enough and he found himself swaying slightly, waiting for...something. The muscles he was using to keep himself in place didn’t burn yet, but they were slowly getting there. He knew Bucky had a thing about making sure he was fed, but this couldn’t be all Bucky wanted, could it?

The frown was clear in Bucky’s voice when he spoke again. “You’re a rotten liar, Steve. No, don’t say a fucking word. You trust me with you and I trust you with me. If we thought we could be trusted with our own damn selves we’d a’been fuckin’ for months.”

Steve struggled against the urge to speak. He hadn’t been lying.

He couldn't say that Bucky was wrong, either.

“I’m gonna tell you some things for about the millionth time and I need you to listen,” Bucky whispered, suddenly close enough to break against Steve’s neck and ear.

Steve shivered.

“I got ‘em written down and everything so you know I’ve thought about it and I mean everything I say. Gonna listen? Let me have what I want?”

Letting himself slump, Steve nodded. This was Bucky’s show. Steve would do whatever he wanted.

“Good.” Bucky kissed him and smiled into it as Steve responded. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna put away the plates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve accidentally triggers another middle of the night murder attempt. When he talks to Tony later, Tony sees the physical aftermath and makes a few comments about Steve needing to protect himself from his boyfriend. How much Tony thinks he's joking is unclear.
> 
> Later in the chapter, Steve fails to negotiate anything, despite direct prompting, leaving everything up to Bucky. Bucky tries out bondage and handfeeding with uncomfortable echoes of his own treatment by HYDRA.


	113. Chapter 113

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I wanted to make sure Bucky's words were right.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking it out. Only two parts left before I can finally start showing you their future.

The anticipation was… difficult. Steve was sorely tempted to open his eyes, even if he'd kept them closed so long now the lids felt heavy. He shifted and tried to alleviate some of his increasingly uncomfortable tension. When Bucky returned, he wasn't trying to move quietly. His tread and the whisper of paper in Bucky’s hands helped Steve to focus.

"Huh," said Bucky. "Nod if you're okay or shake your head if you need me to let you down."

Steve nodded immediately. This level of discomfort was nothing really, but it was nice to know Bucky had noticed. 

"It's been about an hour and twenty. Got any idea how weird it feels that you're letting me do this? I'da done myself an injury by now in your place."

Steve started to shake his head and then stopped, concerned that Bucky might thing he was asking to be freed. 

“Okay then. Here goes." Bucky cleared his throat. Paper rustled. "Steve. I know I love you and you love me, but I also know you're scared about being together. Being together sexually. I want to be clear. The fact that I can and want to and do consent now, and I'm sure you want to too, in no way alters what happened in the past. Multiple people, including me, choose not to hold either of us responsible. But.”

There was a long pause filled only by the quiet crinkling of paper. _But what, Buck?_ Because there was no way Bucky didn't have any reservations. Steve had had enough for both of them and no matter what he tried it still felt like they were on opposite ends of a see-saw. As Bucky's confidence rose, Steve retreated, and then as soon as Steve's confidence rose, Bucky retreated. There had to be a reason they couldn't get on the same page for more than few minutes.

Bucky cleared his throat and continued. "What happened between us under HYDRA was not consensual. I don't mean to upset you, but I wasn't the only one who couldn't freely consent. Our superiors had life and death power over us. They could do or make _us_ do just about anything. We had no options other than compliance. You can tell yourself that you could'a refused or fought or left, but those weren't real choices you could'a made, Steve. You tried, didn't you? Compliance was the least bad choice."

That's what everyone kept telling him. Steve was still working on believing it. He might even have argued if he hadn't been holding his tongue for Bucky.

"Any idea how hard I worked to seduce you? You were my fucking official secondary mission, straight from the Secretary."

Steve inhaled sharply, mind racing. He _hadn't_ known that. He might have expected it, but he hadn't _known_.

"Yeah, that's right. _Compromise Captain Rogers._ Half the time, I didn't even know how that could be possible until Rumlow introduced you. You were supposed to be fucking dead. No way were you in front of me, talking to me, touching me, looking at me like I might be the person I'd fantasized about one day getting to be. You looked at me like we were more than a story. I'm not a fucking Black Widow, Stevie. A honeytrap isn't in my goddamn skillset these days. Orders were orders, though, and I was supposed to make you want me so bad you'd get stupid. I didn't know how to do that, so I tried what I knew worked on _me_ and took advantage when you were stupid anyway. I told you before. I drugged you to get you through that first time. I don't know why that first time is one of the clearest, but I was fucking _proud_ of myself. I fucking  _dream_ about it now and it's not a damn nightmare until I wake up and think about what I did. I helped them rape you, rape us, and I'm sorry, but I did it."

That wasn't right. That couldn't be right. Putting it that way make it sound like Bucky had had a choice and there was no choice at all.

 _Isn't that what Bucky just told you?_ He pushed the thought away. It wasn't the same at all. There was no comparison.

Bucky waited, maybe to see if Steve would try to argue. When Steve stayed still and silent, there was a faint noise like Bucky had shifted position- nodded maybe. The paper rustled against skin and metal. Steve tried to picture it in his head. Was it a whole page, a half-sheet, lined or unlined? Handwritten? Typed and printed? He didn't smell printer ink, but there was no telling how long ago Bucky had finished-

Steve' desperate attempt to distract himself from the actual content of Bucky's words shattered as Bucky said, "I know it's a hell of a lot to ask, but can we try to forgive and move on? Try to stop actin' like guilt is an Olympic sport you gotta constantly train for? They don't get to take our future as well as our past. I. I." For a long moment, Bucky broke off speaking and shuffled his feet. "I want our future. I want  _us_. As a fuckin' couple, fucking pun intended. Fuck HYDRA. They don't get to stop us from having our happy ending and the only happy ending I want is with you. HYDRA didn't tell me to want that. They only cared what I thought so far as it affected my behavior. They couldn't take you out, so they had to convince me they'd put you in. They had to work with what was already there and what was already there was you and me, pal."

 _God, I want that to be real. Please let it be real._ His eyes burned and he struggled against the urge to blink.

"So, you gotta know, Steve. The reasons I would try to make you happy weren't the same as the reasons I would try for the Commander. I might have been afraid, but not of you, not like the others. There was always more to it. You didn't have to get to me. I've been yours for the asking since sometime in the mid '30s. My biggest regret about us isn't what we did under orders. It's what we haven't done on our own."

Liquid ran down Steve's face and dripped off his chin onto his chest. He tried to tell himself it was only sweat, but he wasn't under that much physical strain and he still wasn't a good enough liar.

“You should know-" Bucky continued, but Steve couldn't take it anymore.

"Kiss me, Bucky," he gasped, then reflexively recoiled.  _Fuck, I gave him an order and_...

The thought trailed off as cool metal settled on his hip and warmed flesh and blood fingers skimmed over his shoulder to cup the back of his head to draw him forward into the press of lips. Steve’s throat emitted a breathless broken sound and he couldn't even be embarrassed at the fresh burst of tears now wetting both their faces. 

"Shh, Stevie. I'm right here. I'm with you-"

"I know. I love you. I'm sorry."

" _Steve_." Bucky sounded desperate, disappointed. 

"Yes," said Steve, as firmly as he could, which wasn't very at the moment. He turned his head, coughed to clear the lump in his throat, and said it again. " _Yes_ , Bucky."

There was a long silence filled only by their mutual breathing.

"Okay, then," Bucky whispered thickly. "Look me in the eye and say it. I love you, I forgive you, I still want to be with you. Your turn. Let' hear it."

"I love you, I. I forgive you," Steve repeated, staring into those perfectly Bucky-blue eyes and only stumbling over the second vow because he still couldn't imagine blaming Bucky for any of it. "I still want to be with you."

"No more begging. Let's have sex," Bucky supplied brightly, both hands now on Steve's hips, thumbs making gentle circular motions. 

Steve worked his jaw a moment. He let his eyes dart around the room. The paper, a single unlined handwritten sheet, brushed his toes where it had fallen between them. "No more begging. Let's have... Right now?"

Bucky smiled, and Steve realized that somehow the asset's small smile had become Bucky's too. He stepped back and then dropped gracefully to one knee to retrieve the paper. 

"I'm not saying no," Steve tried to explain, but then Bucky was down on _both_ knees looking up at him and the familiarity left the rest of his words caught in his throat.

"Well, that's good," said Bucky, "because I have the rest of this written out on goddamn paper. And it's different because I'm the one wearing clothes and you're naked and tied up, so you can tell whatever second thoughts you might be havin' to take a fuckin' hike while I go down on you."

A hard swallow and Steve nodded. "Okay. Please, I-"

The cuffs opened, Steve's knees buckled, and only the Winter Soldier's reflexes saved Steve's genitals from an unfortunate encounter with Bucky's left arm.

There was a heartbeat of shocked stillness as Steve found himself abruptly relocated to Bucky's lap.

"Shit. Guess I oughta said I added another safeword. No more begging."

"Please?" Steve repeated, incredulous. Though, as he thought about it, it only felt more and more appropriate.

They stared at each other until Bucky ducked his head, more happy than sheepish, and then both of them started to laugh, tension evaporated.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry enough not to have ended the chapter this way. ;-)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Another Door](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12037854) by [Cephalopodsalad17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephalopodsalad17/pseuds/Cephalopodsalad17)




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